


For The Love of Soccer Dads and Bake Sales

by ContreParry



Series: PTA!Fenders [1]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Romance, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTA Meetings, Parent-Child Relationship, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 14:51:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5970982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ContreParry/pseuds/ContreParry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is always that one obnoxious parent at the PTA meetings. For Fenris, Anders is that parent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For Fenders February, Dedicated to all the people on the Fenders skype group, because they're all very nice and kind and we talk about our pets too much sometimes.

At every PTA meeting, there was always that one parent. The combative one, the one that organizes rallies at educational board meetings and argues for curriculum changes in the Kindergarten classes. The one who brings in fresh baked brownies at one moment then tells a PTA mother to “Fight me, Marsha, I'm ripped!” in the next. Some parents just shine a little brighter, Fenris reasoned. Some parents just stand out a little more.  


If those few parents glowed with a sort of inner light, then Constantine Anderson was a terribly bright explosion in the middle of a war zone. He had all the subtly of a mage-crafted bomb. And that was fine, Fenris thought grimly. Wonderful. A parent should do their best for their child to the best of their ability. If a parent refused to go to bat for their own child, certainly nobody else would.  


Fenris understood being proud of your child, of course he did. His adoration for Victoria started the moment he held her, squalling and red-faced, in his arms and swore that this child would never have to live the life he and their ancestors did. But this Anderson fellow did not have to be so obnoxious about parenthood. The man argued at every PTA meeting, demanded reforms and curriculum changes at every step. It did not matter that Fenris agreed that the math workbooks for the first grade class were ridiculously unhelpful, or that the beginning magic courses were too religiously based for a public, non-Chantry funded school. The point was that Fenris knew it was out of the teacher's hands, and problems would not be fixed by shouting at them. But Anderson would fight, argue, and be a general pest at the PTA meetings. Meetings that he attended dressed in nurse scrubs with absurd patterns of bright colors, messy paw-prints, and dancing cats. Yet the scrubs were some of the least offensive aspects of Constantine Anderson.  


Who in their right mind went to children's soccer matches with a literal herd of strange animals? Nugs, parrots, cats, snakes, and even a giant lizard (Fenris suspected it was a baby dragon) attended the soccer matches alongside Anderson. There were the PTA meetings, where Anderson hustled in fifteen minutes late with a pan of sugar cookies cut into cat shapes and a giant folder filled with his complaints about the school lunches and the latest offense against the mage students. And then there were the baked goods. Anderson would show up with a container that smelled sweet and delicious and artery clogging. The treats were always so tempting, but Fenris was determined to set a good example for his daughter. There would be no sweets before dinner, and he would not be a hypocrite and break his own damned rule. So Fenris was left to glare at the ever dwindling pile of desserts and silently curse the man who made them as the meetings dragged on and on.  


Suffice to say, Constantine Anderson was an impossible pest.  


“Papa!” A high pitched, whining voice echoed off the mirrored walls of the studio where Fenris was stretching after he ended his advanced ballet class. Fenris carefully folded his legs underneath him, his thigh muscles pleasantly burning from the deep stretch. “Papa, papa, I have a question!”  


“I'm listening, Victoria.” Fenris said as his daughter bounded into the room and collapsed on the wooden floor in a pile of skinny limbs and bony joints, her red hair coming out of their uneven pigtails. Her eyes, big and green like his own, gleamed brightly in her small and angular face. Even her pointed ears twitched in excitement, and Fenris marveled at his daughter's boundless energy and cheery demeanor. He could not remember being so carefree as a child. He remembered very little of his childhood.  


“Can I have my friend over to play? Can I, can I, can I?” She asked eagerly, her words slurring together in her excitement. She was bouncing on the floor, her whole body practically wriggling in delight. “Please, papa, I won't ask for anything ever again, I promise!”  


“Don't make promises you cannot keep.” Fenris said calmly in the face of Victoria's now impressive pout. “Who is your friend?”  


“Nick!” Victoria exclaimed. “We play soccer together, and we're in Ms. Merrill's class, and we have magic lessons together, and he's really smart and quiet and doesn't ever start fires, papa, I promise he won't be any trouble!”  


“Hmmm.” Fenris hummed, then easily got to his feet. “We can work something out. His parents can come by the studio tomorrow to drop him off.”  


“Yay!” Victoria squealed in delight, launching herself off the floor and into Fenris's stomach, wrapping her skinny freckled arms around his waist. “Thank you, papa!”  


“Of course. Now show me your homework.” He returned the hug briefly before his daughter shot off and clambered up the stairs to their apartment. Fenris sighed and shut off the studio lights before heading upstairs himself. He trusted Isabela to lock up the front when she ended her ballroom dance lessons in an hour.  


Nick. That was a familiar name. Victoria must have mentioned him before, but Fenris could not think of when she talked about him or what the conversation could have been. He was a little wary, inviting another mage into his home, but this Nick couldn't possibly be worse than Victoria. Teaching her to control her magic had been worse than pulling teeth. Neither of them knew what they were doing, and Fenris's wariness of magic was difficult to overcome. In the end, Hawke's younger sister Bethany took over the lessons, scolding Fenris severely for his lack of empathy. But he was better now, more understanding and less severe, and Victoria bounced back with her customary vigor and cheer. So Fenris pushed the matter out of his mind, already thinking of what he could manage to scrounge up for dinner and wondering if he should pull out his much battered dictionary to help Victoria with her writing homework. It hardly mattered who Nick was. Mage or not, he must be special for Victoria to want to invite him over for a playdate. If Victoria liked him, then Fenris was determined to try and give him a chance as well.

 

Despite Fenris's harsh opinions, Constantine “Anders” Anderson did not mean to cause a stir. He just loved his son very, very much, and wanted him to have a safe and happy school life. And if he happened to change the injustices of the educational system while he advocated for his son, well, Anders thought, so much the better. He would fight anyone to make sure Nick never had the experiences he did: taken away as a child from an abusive home, raised in a Chantry run foster care system that tried to drum the magic out of him, teased and hurt because of what he couldn't control- Anders would not let his son, or any other mage, suffer like he did. Their magic would be valued and not feared, and his son would have a happy childhood with his family, small as it was. Anders would make sure of it.  


“Daddy?” Nick whispered the question, so quiet Anders barely heard him over the mewling of the kitten he was trying to medicate. But Anders did hear, and he put down the now empty dropper of medicine and turned to face his son.  


“Yes, Nick? What is it?” He asked patiently. Nick scuffed his shoes, hiding his face behind his messy golden blond curls. “Is something the matter?” Nick shook his head vigorously and glanced up, his light gray eyes meeting his father's.  


“I... I wanted to know... um...” Nick bit his lip before taking a deep breath. “May I go to a friend's house tomorrow to play?” Anders beamed at his son, heart swelling with pride because Nick was asking for things and it was so, so good to see his son asserting himself instead of being passive. He set the kitten back down in her box where she romped about with her brothers and sisters to give his son his undivided attention.  


“Of course you can, Nick! That's a wonderful idea.” Anders said cheerfully, smiling. Nick returned it, his smile smaller and shyer but still brilliant. “Who is your friend?”  


“Victoria Gatti.” Nick replied. Gatti... that was a familiar name. Anders was certain he had heard it before...  


“Mr. Gatti's daughter?” Anders asked, the furrow between his brows deepening at the thought of the enigmatic Mr. Gatti. His son nodded, but he also caught the expression on his father's face, and his eyes crinkled up anxiously. Anders reached out with a hand and smoothed Nick's wild hair away from his face.  


“Do you know him?” Nick asked, obviously seeking his father's guidance and approval.  


“No, no, not at all.” Anders said soothingly. “But we will soon, won't we? What would you like for dinner?” He added, changing the subject. Nick waited a moment, studying his father's face for cues on how to react and what to say. Anders knew his son always wanted to please him, and would form his answers based on what he thought his father wanted to hear. Anders refused to let his feelings and opinions on Mr. Gatti color his son's fragile new friendship, and kept smiling encouragingly at his son.  


“We can have spaghetti. Or stir-fry.” Nick said, finally satisfied with his inspection of his father's feelings. “I can start the rice cooker!” He added hopefully.  


“Stir-fry it is, then! Get the ingredients out, I'll clean up in here and join you in a minute.” Anders said before ruffling his son's hair with his hand. Nick smiled and left Anders's office, almost skipping in excitement. Anders sighed and did one last check-up, letting his magic flicker over the kittens before he left, assured that they were healthy and happy and would make a full recovery.  


Anders knew Victoria Gatti. She was a small, skinny elven girl with dark red hair and an energetic manner. She was on Nick's soccer team and a student in his second grade class. Moreover, Anders knew Victoria's father.  


Fenris Gatti was slender, like most elves, and awfully grim. He sulked in the back of PTA meetings and tended to keep his mouth shut, preferring to be a brooding presence that lingered and terrified the other parents. He constantly dressed in black, and Anders was convinced that the man's sour personality was what turned his hair prematurely white. He would be handsome, Anders thought, if he would only attempt to smile and try to engage in the PTA meetings. Of course, it could be that Anders noticed the frowns because he most often received them. He had no idea what he had done to offend Fenris Gatti so much, and he had long given up trying to discover what it was. But Nick had made a friend, and the boy had so much trouble making friends. Anders could make peace with Fenris Gatti for the sake of his son. He would just put his best foot forward, and try not to shove that foot in his mouth.

 

“Papa! Papa, they're here!” Victoria exclaimed, peering out of the studio's giant front window. Fenris glanced towards the door and stood up from his desk, where he had been calculating the latest electric and water bills. He straightened his plain shirt and hoped that Nick's father wouldn't take offense. Victoria was friendly but had so much trouble making friends, her elven heritage and magic already stacked against her in the more conservative city-state of Kirkwall. He wanted to make a good impression, if only to help his daughter keep a friend she spoke so highly off.  


“Manners, Victoria.” Fenris instructed firmly, all too aware that Victoria's exuberance could be a bit overwhelming at times. “You must try to control yourself.”  


“Yes, Papa.” Victoria parroted, bouncing on her toes. Fenris sighed and straightened his daughter's pigtails before the front door to the dance studio swung open with a jingle of bells and two people, a small boy and his father, stepped inside. Fenris's entire body froze as he took in those Maker-damned nurse scrubs with the smiling cat faces.  


“Hello!” Constantine Anderson said cheerfully, and for the first time in years Fenris felt the urge to let out a sob of frustration. “You must be Victoria's father!” The man thrust out a plastic container filled with... were those cat-shaped cookies? Covered in frosting? “I just whipped up a family favorite, thought I'd share.”  


“Nick!” Victoria said cheerfully, rushing towards her friend and taking his arm in her hands. “C'mon, we can play upstairs!” She paused for a moment, turning back to her father with a mulish expression on her face. “Please.”  


“Patience, Victoria.” Fenris warned. Her lips thinned and she took on an expression that looked too much like his own, her own dark eyebrows slanted down to give her a rather impressive scowl for a girl who only just turned eight.  


“Bye, dad.” Nick whispered to his father. Anderson knelt down and gave his son a kiss on the center of his forehead. Fenris thought it was a little over-dramatic, but did not comment on the moment.  


“Be good, okay?” Anderson murmured before standing up and patting his son's curly head. “Now go play!” He said encouragingly. Victoria tugged on Nick's arm, still glaring at her father. Fenris sighed and rolled his eyes, gesturing towards the hall that divided the downstairs space into two studios- one for Isabela and the other for himself.  


“Go ahead. Do not use the oven or any magic unless I'm there to supervise.” Fenris warned his daughter, who nodded before pulling Nick down the hall, chattering loudly about the awesome new game she got and that she can't wait to play it with Nick- Fenris turned his attention back to Anderson and hesitantly took the container into his hands.  


“This was unnecessary.” He muttered gruffly. “You did not have to bring this, Mr. Anderson-”  


“Anders, please.” Anderson, no, Anders, said cheerfully. Fenris was just waiting for him to start ranting because wasn't that how it always was at the PTA? Anders brought the cookies and then started shouting, usually about magic classes and unjust punishments for mage students.  


Only Fenris's excellent control over his body prevented him from shuddering as Anders's fingers lightly brushed against his own and he felt the twinge of magic running up and down his arms. He was used to magical discharge because of Victoria, but dealing with a rambunctious child's beginning spell work was completely different from feeling the sheer mass of power this man let sleep just under his skin. The only people who wielded this sort of force- Fenris took a deep breath. This was not Tevinter, and he was no longer helpless. Nothing could happen here.  


“I'll pick Nick up at five.” Anders informed Fenris, cutting through the anxious thoughts that were spiraling out of control in Fenris's mind. “Unless there's an emergency at the clinic, then he might be picked up by a friend of mine. Ah, phone number?”  


“What?” Fenris's voice was harsh, biting, meaner than he intended.  


“Your phone number. So I can call you in case there's a problem.” Anders repeated patiently, ignoring Fenris's tone. “Here's mine- cell and work, just in case.” Anders reached into the shirt pocket of those hideous scrubs and handed him a business card. Kirkwall Veterinary Clinic, Dr. Constantine Anderson. Fenris flipped the card over and barely made out Anders's scribbled down number. At least he cares about his son, Fenris thought grudgingly, even if he dresses like a lunatic.  


“Wait here a moment.” Fenris said, retreating to his office to pull out his own business card and scribble his cellphone number on the back. Had he been taking Victoria to a friend's house, he was sure he wouldn't be able to relax until he inspected the entire household for danger. Anders's request for a personal phone number was perfectly reasonable, Fenris reminded himself. It only felt invasive because he was such a private person. This was for Victoria, and he would bear any troubles for her sake. Fenris exited his office and practically shoved his card into Anders's hand.  


“On the back.” Fenris said cooly to Anders's bewildered expression. “Does Nicholas have any allergies?”  


“A minor reaction to ant bites, nothing more.” Anders replied. “He's not picky, just quiet.” Fenris nodded. Victoria was currently in her “red food stage,” and Fenris despaired over the amount of tomatoes the girl had eaten. If Nick was anything less than that, Fenris would take it and be grateful. But the man brought over pure sugar, obviously for the children. How was Fenris going to handle two mage children hyped up on sugar cookies? The man must have done it on purpose, Fenris concluded. That bastard.  


“I guess I'll be going now.” Anders said reluctantly, glancing behind Fenris and up the stairs that led to the apartment. Even down here Victoria's loud, clear voice rang through the halls. Fenris tried not to wince. She forgot to close the doors again.  


“Wow! Not even Aunt Isabela got this far in the level! You're amazing, Nick!” She cheered. It was that new game Isabela purchased for Victoria's birthday, Nug Racers or something.  


“They will be fine.” Fenris assured the man. He was obnoxious, but he was a father. Fenris knew that he would be anxious to leave Victoria at a stranger's home as well. “I will call you if there are problems.” Anders lingered for a moment more before leaving the studio, and Fenris shut the office and went upstairs. He could look over bills another time. Right now he had not one but two mages who needed supervision.

 

Fenris was certain Nicholas would be as irritating, obnoxious, rude, and outspoken as his father. He was surprised to find that the boy was completely not what he expected. He was quiet, just as Victoria said, so quiet that Fenris almost forgot he was there. Victoria's loud chatter covered almost everything the boy said. His clothes were neat and surprisingly normal, considering his father's penchant for ridiculous fabrics. His curly hair kept tangling up and getting in his face, and he balanced Victoria's energy with a peaceful sort of calm far more mature than his age. He let Victoria talk and talk, and paid great attention to her every word before adding a few words of his own.  


And the rudeness Fenris feared? Well. Well.  


“Are you hungry?” Fenris asked the children after they finished with their game and Victoria pulled out her adventure and comic books for Nick to read. “There isn't much, but I can make something.”  


“Tomatoes, papa!” Victoria exclaimed, already racing to the fridge to pull out her box of cherry tomatoes. Fenris sighed. Two weeks ago it was oranges and carrots, this week it was tomatoes. At least she loved her fruits and vegetables, Fenris thought. Better than the sugar and caffeine that other parents stuffed their kids with. While Victoria washed her tomatoes, Fenris turned his attention on the boy. Nick's gaze was focused somewhere near Fenris's feet, and he was standing very straight, his hands clasped in front of him.  


“Is there anything you would like, Nicholas?” Fenris asked, adopting the gentle tone he used when addressing his youngest students. Nick slowly lifted his head, his gaze settled firmly on Fenris's chin. The worried look in his eyes pierced at Fenris's heart. Nick didn't want to say the wrong thing. Fenris knew the look from his own youth- to say something wrong meant punishments of all kinds, and Fenris understood that anxiety. He knew that fear- but what could this boy possibly be afraid of?  


“I don't want to trouble you.” Nick mumbled. Shy. The boy was shy. His behavior was so easy to understand, because Fenris knew what it was like to be uncomfortable and uncertain of your place in the world. How could he have ever thought this boy would be like his father?  


“It is no trouble. You're our guest.” Fenris said firmly. “I'm not much of a cook, but if it isn't too complex I will try.”  


“Ohhhh, papa has apples! Nick, do you want apples?” Victoria asked, and Nick's eyes lit up before he looked up and met Fenris's eyes, the trust in them faint but promising.  


“Victoria says you like apples. Me too.” He said, just a little louder, more confident and sure, and Fenris realized he could never, ever hate this boy.

 

“Was he good?” Anders asked breathlessly as he waited in the apartment doorway. There was a minor emergency at the clinic with a stray nug and the jelly donuts in the break room, but Anders was certain Lirene could handle taking care of one nug overstuffed with jelly and sugar. He rushed to the dance studio and raced up the steps, waving a quick hello at the very gorgeous, very familiar swarthy woman downstairs teaching the tango to a flustered blond man and his petite partner.  


“Yes. Extremely so.” Mr. Gatti said with such fondness that for a second Anders wondered if this was a different man in front of him. But no, the dark, tight clothing were the same, as were the long legs and the clear, dark skin and bright lines of white tattoos running down his limbs and long-fingered hands. And no one could mistake those eyes, green as elf-root and twice as sharp.  


“Glad he didn't give you any trouble, Mr. Gatti.” Anders said, inching ever so slightly closer. He knew it was a stupid idea, by Andraste's ample assets he knew it was idiotic, but Anders never had the best self-control. When someone as gorgeous as Mr. Gatti showed up, he just had to flirt. It was a part of his nature.  


“No child could be as troublesome as Victoria.” The elf said easily, brushing his white hair out of his eyes. Were his eyebrows black? Anders hadn't noticed. “And Fenris, please. No one calls me Mr. Gatti.”  


“Of course, Fenris.” Anders replied, stepping fully inside the apartment. The room was surprisingly cheerful, Anders thought. Fenris's severe personality was such that Anders thought his home would be as bare-bones and harsh as he was. But the kitchen was clean, the breakfast nook's walls were painted a buttery yellow. The bookshelves in the living room were cluttered with books, and the walls covered with pictures. This home looked lived in, Anders realized. Lived in and comfortable.  


The pictures featured a series of a serious faced Fenris and a grinning Victoria together throughout the years. Occasionally they were posing with the beautiful woman downstairs, eating ice cream or staring at the nug exhibit at the zoo. There were also a few photos of Victoria and Fenris with a tan, blue-eyed, auburn-haired man. One was of Victoria dressed in her soccer gear and kicking a ball to the handsome stranger while Fenris sat back and watched. He swore he recognized Aveline Vallen, one of the more outspoken PTA moms, in the photos. She was bandaging Victoria's knee. It was a recent photo, Anders was certain of it. Then there was one of- was that Hawke carrying a tiny Victoria on their shoulders? Anders was positive it was Hawke. No one else could possibly be that tall or ridiculous.  


There was one photo in the center of an otherwise empty side table, there was an older photo of a smiling, red-haired elven woman, heavily pregnant, who looked so much like Victoria that Anders knew she had to be a relation. Victoria's mother, perhaps? A small incense burner lay under her picture, the incense unlit. The table was very, very clean, and Anders just knew it was something sacred, something that shouldn't be messed with. Naturally, because he was contrary by nature, Anders wanted to get closer and figure out what this makeshift shrine was all about.  


“Victoria, Nicholas's father is here!” Fenris called out, but there was no response. Anders tried to subtly get a better look at the photo on the table. She was very pretty, Anders thought absently, though her makeup was a little heavy for her strong features. Familiar features, though he couldn't quite place from where. He reached out to pick up the photo and get a better look, but a long fingered tattooed hand firmly grabbed his hand and kept the picture frame on the table.  


“What are you doing?” Fenris hissed out under his breath, and Anders was painfully aware of how much stronger the elf was, despite his shorter and leaner frame.  


“I was just-” Anders protested, flexing his fingers against Fenris's iron grip. There was no escaping him.  


“Do. Not. Touch anything.” Fenris nearly growled, and as stupid as it was Anders felt his pants tighten at the growl and the warm breath ghosting across his ear and cheek. No, nope, stupid stupid stupid.  


“Let me go!” Anders hissed back, keeping his voice low because the children should not hear the adults fighting, and he knew he was in the wrong. He shouldn't have been touching things, especially things that were so obviously private and personal.  


“Let go of the picture.” Fenris replied, his grip only tightening over Anders's hand.  


“Fine! Hands off!” Anders exclaimed, keeping his voice low. The moment he let go, Fenris did as well. Anders slowly backed away from the picture and the table, and Fenris firmly placed himself in front of the little shrine as if his body was the only defense he could utilize.  


“Never. Never touch that.” Fenris said, his eyes dark and angry and terrifying. Anders was about to say something, to try and soothe the rage that lurked under this man's skin and bone and was all-consuming, but it was at this point that Victoria and Nick chose to appear.  


“Papa!” Victoria practically sang out. “We're here!” Anders marveled at how quickly the hot anger in Fenris's eyes diminished, extinguished by his daughter's presence. He cast a wary look towards Anders before turning his attention to Victoria.  


“It's time for Nicholas to go home.” Fenris said.  


“He can't stay any longer?” His daughter whined.  


“Victoria.” Fenris warned, his voice brooking no argument.  


“Fine.” Victoria sighed loudly before turning to Anders and smiling brightly, as bright as the sun, the same smile as the pretty elven woman in the picture without that tinge of sadness in her eyes. “Thank you for letting Nick come and play today, Mr. Nick's Dad.”  


“You're welcome.” Anders replied automatically. “He can come by anytime you and your father would like. Or you could come visit Nick at our house.”  


“Ohhh!” Victoria hopped over to her father. “Papa, can I? Can I visit Nick sometime? Please please please, I'll never ask for anything else-”  


“No promises you can't keep, Victoria.” Fenris said automatically, glancing over to Anders before looking down at Nick. Nick, who hadn't said a word, but was gazing up at Fenris with a shy, hopeful look in his eyes. Anders saw the moment his resolve crumbled, and was surprised, so surprised that it was Nick, his gentle, sweet, shy son, who broke the steel of Fenris's harsh personality.  


“I... I suppose we can work something out.” Fenris said grudgingly.  


“Thank you, Mr. Fenris.” Nick whispered, his own grin so trusting and admiring that Anders knew, just knew that Nick had Victoria's father firmly wrapped around his finger.  


That was how it began, really. The children got along so well that it was only natural to have them play together. It was convenient for Anders and Fenris to come up with a carpool schedule (“Pick the kids up from school and drop them off at soccer practice, I'll pick them up afterwards.”). They were in the same class, had the same magic lessons, and they got along so well it just made sense to make the effort to let them play together. If their parents couldn't stand each other, well, they were adults and could handle their mutual dislike perfectly well. It wasn't as if they had to interact with each other beyond the few minutes it took to pick up, drop off, and shuffle the children between them. It would be very simple and neat, practical for two single fathers with a lot on their plates.  


But nothing is simple. Anders and Fenris were starting a dance all their own, their feet unconsciously slipping into position as they carefully avoided conversation and eye contact. Anders would muse over why Fenris brooded and fussed so much over his independent minded and cheerful daughter, and Fenris would wonder how a man who was so powerful and outspoken could have such a shy and polite son. Neither of them would be left wondering for long.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris and Anders take a step forward and two steps back.

Victoria sat on the bottom steps of Anders's home, holding out her foot as Nick tied her shoe for her. Anders leaned against the wall and watched them with a grin on his face. Around Victoria, Nick was more comfortable being himself. Nick was currently scolding Victoria, and Anders was surprised by his son's assertive behavior. Surprised and pleased.  


“You keep running around and around, and you never tie your shoes!” Nick said, exasperated. “That's why you always skin your knees!”  


“It's not that bad.” Victoria replied cheerfully. “And I've got you to patch me up!”  


“You should be more careful!” Nick said instead, sighing as he finished the last knot and tugged the laces hard. “There. Promise to tie your shoes next time?”  


“You worry too much, Nick! Like Mrs. Aveline!” Victoria laughed, but she nodded her head. “I promise. So stop frowning!” Anders pulled himself from the wall.  


“I cut up some melon for you two. It's on the island.” He told the children. “Your father should be here soon, Victoria, so don't eat too much!”  


“Okay, Mr. Nick's Dad! Thank you!” Victoria called back as she skipped down the hall, Nick trailing after her, the two of the whispering to each other.  


Anders was certain they were planning something. Victoria was a nice girl and Nick was incapable of viciousness, but when put together the two could be incredibly mischievous. Harmless things, really, like creating a “Haunted Hallway” for him to walk through, or using cellophane to seal the bathroom doorway. Anders thought it was hilarious, though he wondered if Fenris had the same problems with the children that he did. Anders would ask, but he was a little afraid to talk to Fenris after their first meeting. All of their conversations were now terse and mostly over text. Pick up the kids at six from soccer. Victoria is allowed one sweet treat after a meal, no more. Fed the kids peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Any attempts at starting a conversation were immediately shut down before they could begin by Anders's own fear of rejection.  


Anders just wanted to talk, for Andraste's sake! Why did the blasted elf have to make it so hard?  


Fenris was just so quiet, a cold, unfriendly sort of quiet, and Anders felt like he was playing at being a divorced parent faking a cordial relationship so the kids wouldn't be upset. If they could just talk and work through this together, there wouldn't be any problems! But no, Fenris had to be as obstinate as ever, sulking at the back of the room in PTA meetings, exchanging short greetings and goodbyes over their children's heads. At least Fenris's resentment was only aimed at Anders himself. The elf might despise Anders, but he obviously liked, even adored, Nick. It was hard to be angry at a man who was nothing but patient and kind to your son. A loud clattering noise in the kitchen startled Anders from his confused thoughts that spiraled around Fenris.  


“Dad, Pounce got in the marmalade again!” Nick called out from the kitchen. Victoria was giggling loudly while talking to the cat, and Anders hurried towards the kitchen.  


“No, Ser Pounce! Marmalade's not for cats!” More giggles erupted from Victoria. “No you can't have the melon, I'm eating it!”  


“You can just shove him, he won't mind.” Nick said. Anders entered the kitchen, certain that it would be a disaster. The two children were sitting on barstools at the island, eating pieces of melon. Pounce, the cat he adopted when he was in college, was bumping his large orange head against Victoria's freckled elbow and purring low in his throat. His golden lamp-like eyes were fixated on the melon in Victoria's hand, and his sharp white teeth nipped at the piece of fruit as Victoria brought it to her mouth. Next to them on the island a jar of marmalade was overturned, the orange spread dribbling out of the jar and onto the granite countertop. Anders shook his head and picked Pounce up from the counter and held him in his arms. Pounce meowed irritably and squirmed. "Put me down!", his yowls seemed to say.  


“How did Pounce get into the marmalade? I thought it was in the fridge.” Anders said, eyeing the mess distastefully. Marmalade messes. Such a waste of good marmalade.  


“No, dad. You left it out after breakfast.” Nick said. Pounce gave up the struggle to escape and butted his head under Anders's chin just as the doorbell rang. Victoria bounced from her seat and stormed towards the front door, her stocking-ed feet pounding against the polished hardwood floors.  


“That's papa!” She exclaimed. Nick raced after her.  


“I'll get the door, dad!” He said, leaving Anders with a giant mess of sticky melon and marmalade to clean up. Pounce chose this moment to pry himself from Anders's arms and leap onto the island to resume licking the spilled marmalade.  


“This is why you're fat.” Anders said to the cat, who gave him a condescending tail twitch in response. He sighed and left the kitchen. He would have to clean up later tonight.  


Fenris stood in the hallway, listening to Victoria chatter and Nick occasionally chime in. Anders cleared his throat, and Fenris's eyes went from warm and welcoming to shut off and cold.  


“We need to let Victoria and her father go home now, Nick.” Anders said gently. “You need to pack up for your stay with Hawke this weekend.” Anders ignored the frown that crossed Nick's face. As much as Nick liked being around Hawke, two days and one night of Hawke's shenanigans was a little too much for the calm and quiet boy. But everyone else was busy so Hawke had to play babysitter this weekend.  


“Hawke?” Fenris asked, and Anders remembered that slightly blurry photo of red-haired Victoria and the very tall Hawke that hung in Fenris's apartment.  


“Yes. I have a conference this weekend, so Nick's staying with my friend Hawke.” Anders explained.  


“I know Hawke.” Fenris said, glancing over towards Nick, who was standing straight and staring at his feet. Anders knew his son didn't like it when he left for trips, even if he liked Hawke, Uncle Varric, and all of his other adopted aunts and uncles. Nick just hated being alone, something that Anders sympathized with. He hated being alone as well. But this conference could not be missed, and Nick was still young enough that Anders felt uncomfortable dragging him to boring adult events where there were no other children his age.  


“Sometimes I think everyone in this city knows Hawke.” Anders replied. “They have their fingers in everything here.”  


“If you want...” Fenris began hesitantly. “That is to say, Nicholas may stay with us while you're at your conference.” Nick looked up at his father hopefully, and Victoria started to bounce on her toes.  


“Really, papa? Really? Can Nick sleep over?” Victoria asked eagerly, tugging at her father's arm. “Can he can he can he? It would make me very happy, papa, really!”  


“I wouldn't want to inconvenience you-” Anders began, but Fenris interrupted him.  


“If it was inconvenient I would not have offered.” Fenris said firmly. “Victoria has never had a friend sleep over before.” Victoria turned her green eyes to Anders, as large and pleading as a puppy.  


“Please, Mr. Nick's Dad, can Nick sleep over? Please?” Victoria begged, and Anders knew he was a lost cause. Both children wanted it, and if Fenris said it was okay, then who was he to refuse?  


“If you're certain it won't be any trouble, I'll bring Nick over tomorrow after school.” Anders agreed, and children cheered loudly.

 

Fenris wiped the countertop with a paper towel and ran over what foods he had stocked in the fridge. It was lunchtime at the studio, and Isabela decided to sit in his apartment for lunch instead of going across the way and eating her lunch in her own Maker damned apartment. While Fenris would normally be fine with Isabela taking up space in his home, he had a lot to do and much to think about. What should he make for dinner? What about breakfast and lunch? And the dinner after that? Anders said he should return from his trip sometime early Sunday, around two in the morning, but Fenris found himself worrying. What would he do if there was an emergency? What if something went wrong?  


“You're brooding a lot more than usual, Handsome. Something on your mind?” Isabela purred out, stretched out on his couch as she wolfed down some spicy noodle dish from her native Rivain. It had fish in it, and Fenris wrinkled his nose in distaste. Fish dishes were common in Tevinter, especially for the poor. He had eaten enough fish in his youth to last his entire lifetime.  


“It is-”  


“Do not say 'nothing,' you grumpy stick, I know you too well.” Isabela declared, placing her now empty plastic food container on the table and rolling onto her stomach to face Fenris. “Now, judging by the eyebrow wrinkles, it has something to do with Victoria.” Fenris grunted. “She's not in trouble at school again, is she?”  


“No.” Fenris said. “Her friend is coming over for a sleepover.”  


“Oh?” She tilted her head to the side, an unholy, gleeful light glimmering in her eyes. “Oh! That's delightful!” Isabela chuckled. “Look at you, bustling about trying to get everything clean and pretty- Fenris, you're positively nesting!”  


“I want my home to be presentable.” Fenris replied stiffly. Of course Isabela would tease him, when right now he needed help. “If I am taking care of two children, then I should be prepared.”  


“Sweetling.” Isabela said firmly, dropping the laughter and the teasing. “You will do just fine. If anything goes wrong, I'm right across the hall, and you've got Sebastian and Aveline and Hawke and Maker knows who else on speed dial.” She gracefully hoisted herself out of the couch and sashayed to the kitchen, reaching out and patting Fenris's shoulder.  


“I'll tell you what.” She said, her voice firm and soothing and completely in charge. “You put together a grocery list, and when I finish teaching that couple how to tango, I'll go to the store and pick up what you need. That should give you plenty of time to clean up in here, right?”  


“Yes. Thank you, Isabela.” Fenris said, relief coursing through his veins. He was not alone. He would not fail to take care of two young children over two days. He had help.  


“And look at those pretty eyes!” Isabela cooed. “Such a rare treat, a smiling Fenris! I must have done something very good, to be blessed with such a sight!”  


“Hardly.” Fenris snorted, but he was grinning despite himself. “Go downstairs, you have a tango to dance.”  


“Mmhmmm, too right.” Isabela agreed, exiting the apartment with a casual wave. “That Alistair fellow has two left feet, and is so easily flustered. I think his lady enjoys it a little too much. See you later, Handsome!”  


Fenris rolled his eyes and resumed cleaning the counter. Everything would be neat and ready for when the children came home. Fenris didn't even notice how his mind made no distinction between which child was his or Anders's.

 

“Promise to be good, Nick.” Anders whispered to his son, giving him a fierce, lingering hug. Nick returned it, skinny arms wound tightly around his father's neck. Fenris stood back with Victoria and let the two say their goodbyes in peace. Victoria was trembling with the effort to stay still, but she managed to keep quiet. Fenris was very proud.  


“Bye, Daddy.” Nick whispered before letting go. “I'll be okay.”  


“I know. I'll see you on Sunday.” Anders promised. “Now go and have fun!” Victoria waved Nick over so they could go and play in her room, her volume significantly reduced as she talked to her friend. Fenris was surprised by his daughter's newfound tact. He turned to Anders, who silently handed over a small overnight bag.  


“He doesn't have any medications. He does have a bit of a sweet tooth, but I'm sure you knew that already.” Anders said. 

“He might miss Pounce, though, so I packed his stuffed cat just in case.”  


“Pounce?” Fenris asked. Victoria mentioned Pounce in past conversations, but she spoke so quickly that he could never quite gather what, or who, Pounce was.  


“My cat, Ser Pounce-A-Lot.” Anders explained. “He's been with Nick his entire life, so Nick was a bit worried, leaving him with Hawke for the weekend.”  


“That is a ridiculous name.” Fenris said flatly.  


“I'll have you know that Ser Pounce comes from a long and noble feline lineage! He is a ferocious beast with the claws of a tiger and the heart of a lion!” Anders proclaimed, eyes flashing with a strange, teasing sort of defensiveness. He was not angry, Fenris realized, not really. He was joking, not making fun of Fenris but cajoling him, urging him to join in on the joke- just like Isabela would, Or Hawke, or Hawke's dwarf friend Varric. Fenris found himself wanting to join in, to joke and tease back.  


“So you and your son keep a wildcat as a pet.” Fenris said, his lips quirking up in amusement because of course a ridiculous man like Anders would have a ridiculous pet with an absurd name. Nothing about this man was understated, or even normal.  


“He slayed a jar of marmalade yesterday. Quite fearsome, really.” Anders laughed then, as if he realized just how ridiculous this conversation was. “No, he's a tubby little tabby who goes to bed with Nick and wakes me up by sitting on my face. Love that little bastard, though.”  


“I have never had a pet. Neither has Victoria.” Fenris said quietly. “Never had the space before.” The space or the money, really. Elves in Minrathous had barely enough money for themselves, so owning a pet, even a lowly nug, was an ill-afforded luxury.  


“Well, I'll be the first person to advocate getting one.” Anders said. “Veterinarian, you know. Part of the job description.”  


“Hmmm.” Fenris hummed, neither agreeing or disagreeing with the statement. A silence fell over them, more comfortable than most of the ones they shared, and Fenris looked, really looked, at the man before him.  


The patterned nurses scrubs were exchanged in favor of more practical travel attire- a light collared shirt, a dark suit jacket, and a pair of jeans that encased long, lean legs. When he didn't look like he dressed in the dark, Fenris thought absently, Anders could be rather handsome. He had a good stance as well, balanced on both feet, shoulder width apart, spine straight and tall- Fenris realized he was eyeing up Anders as if he were a potential student and returned his gaze to Anders's face. Anders seemed startled as well, and Fenris didn't know what to say.  


“I suppose I should leave now. Got a flight to catch and all.” Anders said, stepping back, and Fenris couldn't understand why he felt so reluctant to let the man leave. Was it the fact that they had had a conversation without it falling apart? Or was it that he wanted to pull the man downstairs to his studio and make him dance with him, to feel his body against his own and see how well they might fit and move together? Fenris didn't know, and that frightened him a little bit.  


“Have a safe trip.” He mumbled as Anders exited the apartment.  


“Why Fenris! And here I was, thinking you didn't care!” Anders teased, and Fenris scowled, shutting the door behind the man with a ferocious bang. Foolish, obnoxious man!

 

Fenris was walked by Victoria's room to ask the children what they wanted for dinner when he caught the conversation and halted right out of sight.  


“Victoria,” Nick said hesitantly, uncertain and so worried that Fenris wanted to comfort the boy, “Where's your mother?”  


“Papa says she's gone now. Uncle Sebastian says she's always watching over me.” Victoria replied. “Auntie Isabela said that mama loved me so much she traveled across the sea in secret so I could live with papa and be happy.” Victoria said nonchalantly. “I think Auntie Isabela is the most honest about it, because papa tells her to hush when she starts talking too much about mama.”  


“So your mom and dad were separated?” Nick asked, and Fenris found himself hanging on every word, even though he knew it was rude and wrong to eavesdrop on private conversations.  


“Well, I guess.” Victoria said, and Fenris could hear the shrug in her voice. “Mama was papa's sister. I'm adopted.”  


“So your dad-”  


“Papa is papa.” Victoria said firmly. “He takes care of me and loves me and tucks me in at night, so what else could he be? Uncle Sebastian also had papa sign a buncha papers so that papa can be my papa and no one can say he isn't.” Fenris bit his lip to distract himself from the tears swimming in his eyes, because Victoria's childish statement so easily swept away his worries, his fears that he had raised his sister's child all wrong. It nearly brought him to his knees.  


“But why'd you ask, Nick?” Victoria turned the questioning around, and Nick grew quiet. “C'mon, Nick, you've got to tell me! I won't stop asking until you say what it is!”  


“Don't be so bossy.” Nick said, and Fenris almost chuckled because Victoria could be very, very bossy. The atmosphere soon grew serious again, though, when Nick spoke.  


“It's... just sometimes...” Nick sighed, a sigh that seemed too old and tired for a little boy. “I don't know who my mom is. Dad doesn't talk about her. I heard Hawke say something though. They were angry that she left, that she left dad and me. Dad told him that it didn't matter, that it was better because I was with him.”  


“Nick?” Victoria's voice was soft, gentle, completely unlike her boisterous, loud self, and Fenris marveled at his daughter's tact. Where had she picked that up?  


“She left me. I wasn't good enough for her.” Nick finally said, his voice shaking slightly. “And I know I'm quiet, and sometimes I'm boring, and that magic and mages can be scary, but... but...” His next words were muffled. “I don't want dad to leave me too. So I have to be good, you see? Because he might leave if I'm not.” It was quiet then, and Fenris nearly rushed into the room. The desire to take Nick into his arms and assure the boy that he was wonderful and good and fine the way he was was nearly overwhelming, but Victoria spoke and her words locked Fenris's legs in place.  


“Nick.” Victoria said with all the solemnity of Sebastian in his Chantry gear giving the morning blessings. “You are amazing.”  


“What?”  


“You're amazing. And smart. You're really nice and not scary at all, and no one can draw as well as you do.” Victoria proclaimed. “You're not boring at all. Lots of people like you! Me, and your dad, and papa, and Hawke, and Ms. Merrill, and Coach Donnic! We all think you're great!”  


“But-”  


“Shhhhhh, you act like an old man! Now let's do Ms. Merrill's runes homework. We can get papa to bring out some books. He has lots of books, he'll have something about runes.” The two began to talk about their homework, Ms. Merrill, and the class pet, a guinea pig named Falafel. As they chatted, Fenris leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes and trying not to think about Nick's heartbreaking fears that he wasn't good enough.

 

Fenris put a frozen pizza in the oven for dinner and served it with a salad to make up for its unhealthiness. He told the children to get dressed for bed and made sure they brushed their teeth, reminding Victoria that flossing meant actually flossing. Fenris tucked them both into bed, “bed” being a large air mattress he set up in Victoria's bedroom. It was covered in blankets and pillows, and Fenris tucked both of them in, making sure that Victoria had her pile of stuffed toys and that Nick had his much loved cat beside him.  


“Papa, story!” Victoria demanded, then thought better of it.“Will you please tell us a story?”  


“Only one, then you must sleep.” Fenris warned, but he pulled out a storybook and read until he was certain the children were barely awake. He gave Victoria a quick kiss on the forehead, and it only seemed natural to show the same affection to Nick.  


“You are not boring, Nick. You are smart and kind. If anyone says otherwise they are wrong.” Fenris murmured quietly into Nick's curly hair. He had wanted to say more, to let this little boy who seemed so lost and sad that he would always be welcomed and loved and treasured, but the words would not come out. It seemed too much, too forward, to say such things to a child who was not his own. But somehow Fenris felt that Nick understood what he was trying to convey through his flimsy, clumsy words.  


“Thank you, Mr. Fenris.” He said, tugging Fenris into a hug that Fenris returned. “Thank you.”  


Fenris eventually let the boy go and made sure the children were truly asleep before he went to his own room and pulled out his phone. He needed to talk to someone, anyone, and Isabela was probably busy (it was a Friday night, after all) so he couldn't exactly call her. His finger lingered on Anders's number for a moment, but he shook his head and scrolled down until he found Sebastian. It was only 9:00 PM, Fenris reasoned, and Sebastian liked to burn the midnight oil. The phone rang for a few moments until Sebastian answered, his thick Starkhaven brogue breathless.  


“Fenris! Whatever is the matter?” He asked, and Fenris thought he heard someone else on the line, someone who was telling Sebastian that “This had better be an emergency, damn it all to the Void!” It was too fuzzy to make out who was saying it, but if Fenris had to hazard a guess, he would say it was a woman on the other end with Sebastian.  


“It's... not an emergency, I suppose.” Fenris said quietly. “You have company.”  


“Nonsense. You never call unless it is an emergency.” Sebastian replied. “And company is debatable.”  


“Excuse me? I'll have you know I am wonderful company- wait a second, is that Fenris?” The voice was clearer now, and there was no mistaking it for anyone else.  


“Isabela? You have Isabela at your home?” Fenris asked, and he suddenly had a very, very clear idea of what he was interrupting. He felt his face, from his cheeks to the very tips of his ears, grow hot. “I am sorry, I had not realized-”  


“You better be sorry, I almost convinced him to-” Isabela whined pathetically.  


“Isabela, not now!” Sebastian sounded desperate to change the subject, and Fenris reminded himself to tease his friend mercilessly at a more appropriate date when they both weren't embarrassed.  


“If you are busy-" He started to say.  


“The moment's dead, Fenris. You killed it.” Isabela sighed heavily, the whoosh of air sending static over the line. “But Sebastian is right, you never call unless there's a reason. Trouble with the babies? Need Aunt Isabela and Uncle Sebastian to save the day?”  


“No. They are sleeping. His father is picking him up tomorrow.” Fenris said. “It was only... this boy...”  


“Has he been any trouble?” Sebastian asked.  


“No!” Fenris exclaimed, horrified that Sebastian, that anyone, would think Nick was a problem. “No, Nick has been wonderful. He always is.” Fenris realized he didn't know how he could say his questions, his doubts, his worries, never mind finding answers to all the questions that plagued him.  


“He just seems troubled. I don't know how to help him.” Fenris said helplessly.  


“And you want to help him.” Isabela stated. “Which isn't something you normally do for someone else's spawn.”  


“Fenris, all you need to do is be an example and a trusted guide for him to turn to. Remember that your task as a parent is to be a teacher and confidante, and that a learned child is a blessing upon his parents and onto the Maker-“ Sebastian began to say, his voice taking up the rhythmic cadence of the Chant of Light.  


“Oh, Andraste's granny panties, Sebastian, Fenris wants advice, not a sermon!” Isabela snapped out. “Though he makes a good point. The boy likes you just fine, Fenris, keep doing whatever it is you're doing and you'll manage.”  


“Thank you, both of you.” Fenris said quietly. “I suppose I should let you go and do... whatever it was you were doing.” He hung up the phone as Sebastian protested that they were doing nothing untoward and Isabela cheerfully proclaimed that she'd get right on that. Fenris's spirits were lifted by the brief conversation. Tomorrow he'd take care of the kids, make sure they were fed and happy and had their homework done, and then he'd speak with Anders about his son and his fears when he came by to pick him up. Yes. This was a good plan. Fenris got dressed and went to bed, setting up his alarm clock to wake him so he could prepare breakfast.

 

Anders was walking by the airport gift shop when he spotted something in the window. It was a coffee mug with a cat, a cat with the angriest little expression on its tiny face. The big, bold black text above the cat's head simply stated the word “NOPE.” Anders entered the tourist trap shop and purchased the mug without a second thought, already imagining the bemused, slightly exasperated expression that would grace Fenris's perpetually grumpy face when Anders presented it to him.  


“At least it's practical.” Anders's imagined Fenris would say, and he would go up on his toes and give Anders a quick kiss on the cheek as a grudging thank you. The kids would run around in their kitchen, and Anders would bake a pie, or maybe some cookies, and Fenris would grump and say it was too much sugar, they should have a healthier snack- what in the Void? Anders shoved the wrapped up mug into the bottom of his bag. Where in Andraste's tits did _that_ come from? Their kitchen? Kisses? Were they getting... domestic?  


With the startling clarity that only panic brought, Anders realized that he, in fact, was getting extremely cozy with Fenris. The carpooling, the attempts to flirt, to joke, to try and pry a reaction out of the stoney-faced elf- damn it, Anders, you played the field and did just about every imaginable act, but making a home? Anders briefly raised his hand up to the thin silver chain around his neck, and the thin, worn down gold ring that hung off it. Never again. He had sworn he would never open his heart up again, but here he was, playing house with a man who, by all accounts, hated his guts. Anders knew he should stop and pull away, but he also knew he was too weak, too needy and desperate to even try and untangle himself. There was no turning back now.

 

Anders arrived at Fenris's apartment in the early morning, and texted to let him know he was outside. Fenris opened the door and ushered him in.  


“They're asleep.” Fenris murmured. “I thought it best to keep them both on a normal schedule.”  


“Thank you for watching Nick for me. There wasn't any trouble?” Anders asked anxiously.  


“No.” Fenris said. Anders felt that there was something in Fenris's expression that indicated otherwise, that said that there was something that happened, but Fenris said nothing more.  


“I'll just get Nick, then-” Anders began to say, but Fenris raised one slender, tattooed hand to stop him from moving forward.  


“Wait.” Fenris said. He stopped, and sighed. “I do not mean to pry. Your business is your own. I only wanted you to know that Nick... worries.” Fenris continued. “He said something yesterday. It had to do with his mother, and that he worries you might leave him too. I... thought you should know.” Anders's heart sank with those words. He knew Nick had some measure of anxiety, that he had some fears, but to hear them confirmed by Fenris stung a bit. It felt like he had failed, somehow. Anders tried to keep Nick happy and safe, but his son still felt insecure. Some father he was.  


“I know you would not. You may pick fights with everyone and be an obnoxious prat, but you are a good father.” Fenris sounded like he was trying to reassure him, but his words felt more like condemnation than praise.  


“Despite everything else about me?” Anders said bitterly. It was always something. He was always good for something in spite of his magic, in spite of his personality, in spite of his many shortcomings. He was never good enough just as he was, flaws and all.  


“I do not mean it as insult.” Fenris murmured, and he looked terribly confused, as if he hadn't realized what sort of hurt he inflicted with his words alone.  


“Never mind.” Anders replied shortly. “I'm here to pick Nick up.”  


Fenris led him back through the apartment. Nick and Victoria were cuddled up together on an air mattress, and Anders carefully maneuvered Nick so he wouldn't be jostled awake. Fenris silently handed Nick's overnight bag to Anders, who took it and Nick's stuffed cat. When they reached the front door Nick mumbled in his sleep and Anders clutched him tighter. He resolved to pay better attention to Nick and his needs in the future.  


“I will pick them up from school on Monday.” Fenris offered. “Though I don't know what we should do about the PTA meeting next week.”  


“They provide childcare.” Anders said. “I will see you at soccer practice, then.”  


“Yes.” Fenris said shortly, and he opened the front door.  


“Thank you for caring for Nick.” Anders exited to the hallway so he could take the back entrance and go down to his car.  


“Goodbye.” Anders thought he heard Fenris whisper, but he could not be certain. He never turned around to confirm it. Fenris's words filled him with a desperate sort of loneliness, reminding him of how alone he was and would be, how he just couldn't manage to keep his own family content. As much as he struggled and fought, happiness was a fleeting, flighty thing that Anders could never keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read, left comments, kudos, and/or bookmarked this story. It's a blast to write this story, and I'm glad all of you are enjoying it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes to move forward, it is important to step back.

The problem with soccer practices, Fenris thought, was that the weather never cooperated. Right now it was fall, but the summer heat clung to the afternoons and evenings. It was nothing like Tevinter or Seheron or even Antiva, but it was still humid and disgusting. Fenris withstood the beating sun with a stoic sort of acceptance of the heat and his inability to change it. He had survived worse under far worse conditions. Anders stood next to him, dressed in those stupid scrubs and wiping his forehead with the back of his wrist. A three-legged mabari patiently sat next to him, his stubby tail wagging at a ferocious pace. The dog occasionally barked a happy, excited bark whenever a small child or the ball came close. 

“How are you not dying?” Anders demanded crossly, the first words he said to Fenris today. They were the first words Anders had said to him in several days. Whatever it was Fenris had done to offend the man, it had cut to the core. Fenris had not meant any insult, but the wound had been made. He knew little of making apologies, but if it was the only way to seal the hurt and make things better, Fenris would try. 

Fenris looked over Anders, and wondered why the man, who had a well formed and elegant body, would force his tall body into baggy, ugly patterned scrubs when he clearly had other, more sensible clothing he could wear. He must have come from work, Fenris realized, and he then wondered if Anders was always working. It could be the explanation for why Anders always wore something so unflattering. 

“I was raised in Minrathous.” Fenris said simply. “I can bear the heat.” 

“Minrathous?” Anders asked incredulously, but he did not continue. Fenris knew that the man was curious. Who wouldn't be? Minrathous was far away, and elves who lived in the city very rarely had the means to leave it. He was impressed that the man did not press for more information, and instead allowed for the silence between them to remain undisturbed. Apologize now, he thought, before you lose your nerve and wait for the next time, then the next- let him know you're sorry for hurting his feelings, let him know- 

“Break time!” Coach Donnic, Aveline's husband, told the children. “Drink water, don't sit down!” The children raced over to their parents, and Nick and Victoria were immediately distracted by the mabari hound. Nick affectionately rubbed the spots behind the dog's ears, and Victoria giggled as the dog gave her slobbery dog kisses all over her face. 

“He gave them puppy eyes, didn't he?” Anders sighed. “He's the worst. Pretends he's never been loved in his life, don't you, silly?” He said that to the dog, who only wagged his short tail faster, his entire body wiggling in joy. 

“They are intelligent creatures. Loyal.” Fenris remarked. He had always liked dogs, especially mabari. They were said to have been Tevinter in origin, but abandoned the Vints in favor of living in Ferelden. Fenris liked their independent natures and rather friendly faces. They were not beautiful or elegant, but strong and practical and unassuming. He identified with them, he supposed as he lightly ran his thumb over the scarified swirling lines on his bicep. Not beautiful, no, but strong and practical. Hardworking. Loyal. 

“You would be a dog person.” Anders snorted, but he sounded more fond than irritated. Of course, he was looking at the dog as he said the words, so Fenris was almost certain that Anders was still irked with him. “Bear here is a bit special. Pretty friendly for a stray, too.” 

“I see.” Fenris reached out to let Bear sniff at his hand. The dog sniffed and snuffled, then gave Fenris a very wet kiss across his palm. “And you brought him to soccer practice because?” 

“The office is a bad environment for a dog recovering from surgery. He needs some exercise.” Anders explained. “Nick and I will take him to the dog park after this.” 

“Can Victoria and Mr. Fenris come with us, dad?” Nick asked, moving away from Bear to get a drink of water. “You said that Bear needs Socialization.” He said the last word with added emphasis, like it held some sort of power, capital letter and all. Victoria turned her eyes to Fenris, big and pleading, and Fenris knew what she wanted before she even opened her mouth. 

“Oh please, papa? Can we? I've never walked a dog before, Hawke says Rogue is too big for me to walk. And wouldn't it be great to walk a dog? Can we please, I won't ask for any-” She stopped and corrected herself. “Well I'd be really happy if we could go, papa!” 

“We'll discuss it. Drink your water and go back to practice.” Fenris said, mostly to end Victoria's begging. Victoria gave him a look, a look that was terribly familiar to him though he couldn't place where he had seen it before. Her dark eyebrows arched and she huffed one long, exasperated sigh before crossing her arms imperiously. 

“Fine. But you have to _talk_ , papa.” She said. “C'mon, Nick, let's go practice!” 

“Andraste's Tits.” Anders breathed out after the children rushed back onto the field to begin passing drills. “She looks just like you.” 

“Really?” Fenris asked. Victoria was the spitting image of his sister when she was a child. It was hard for Fenris to find himself in Victoria, in either appearance or personality. 

“It's the eyebrows.” Anders replied. “And the eyes too, I suppose, but you two have the same expressions. She's not nearly as grumpy, though.” 

“Hmm.” Fenris chose not to comment. He wasn't grumpy, he just preferred silence to noise. But he supposed he and Victoria did share the same eyes- his own mother's eyes, Fenris faintly recalled, eyes that were green and vibrant before Tevinter's smog and poverty ground out the light in them. He had a picture, along with the pictures of his sister he kept safe like a dragon's horde. But it was gratifying to know that there was a resemblance between himself and his daughter. There was more silence between them. The children on the field were now kicking soccer balls back and forth. Coach Donnic told them to take it slow and hit the ball with the side of the foot, not the toe. Birds were chirping, other parents were talking, there was the sound of cars driving by, and beyond that the sound of the sea, faint in the background. But Fenris felt as if he and Anders were in a personal bubble filled with silence. 

“If I offended you last week-” Fenris began. 

“You did.” Anders said shortly. 

“I am sorry.” He answered. “I will endeavor not to do so again.” 

“It's.... you didn't mean it, I'm pretty sure you don't hate me _that_ much, but the subject of Nick's mother is... tough.” Anders sighed, his hand dropping down to Bear's head and scratching at it. “We don't talk about it.” 

“If it were any other situation...” Fenris said haltingly. This was new ground for him. This wound was raw, as if the cut were freshly made, not old at all. This ran deep, this hurt within Anders. Fenris understood deep hurts, but fixing them was another matter entirely. He let his own pain and suffering fester for so long he grew bitter and resigned. If it weren't for Isabela, for Sebastian, for Hawke and everyone else, he would have given up and laid himself to rest. He would still be back in Minrathous, dancing for giant audiences in the bright lights and barely surviving while his manager took everything from him. He would have lived a lie, believing until his dying day that Danarius cared for him, loved him, that he really was only worth so much because Danarius knew how to promote his talents and show him to the world. He would have never left. He would have never found his sister again. 

He would have never had _Victoria_. 

“If this were any other situation, if it were any other time, I would not have brought it up.” Fenris finally managed to say, the words coming as slow as molasses dripping from a spoon. “But it was Nick, and he and Victoria were talking, and it was... I thought you should know.” 

“It's fine. Well, not fine, but I get it.” Anders shrugged. “You might be an ass, but you care about your daughter. You care about Nick, and that's a lot more than most people. I'm glad he has someone else who cares.” 

“I can't see how someone couldn't care for Nick.” Fenris replied. “He's wonderful.” 

“He's also a mage.” Anders pointed out. “It will mark him for the rest of his life.” 

“So is Victoria. And an elf besides.” Fenris leveled a cool stare at Anders. “You do not have a monopoly on oppression, Anders.” 

Anders opened his mouth, his expression furious, shut it, frowned, and then snorted. A bitter little chuckle escaped his lips, one that Fenris understood completely. Sometimes when it hurt all you could do was laugh. 

“Well, you are from Minrathous.” Anders finally said. “You would know a lot more on the subject.” 

“I suspect we both have had our share of hardship.” Fenris added. “It is our responsibility to ensure our children do not share the same fate.” 

“Our children?” Anders asked, giving Fenris a side-long stare. Fenris felt stripped naked from that gaze alone. Those eyes were too sharp, searching for answers that Fenris didn't think he could give. Meet the challenge head on, push back. Every motion must be strong in a dance, every motion certain and sure. Why the instructions of the teachers of his youth- his mother and sister and the other elves in his cramped, filthy neighborhood- were now echoing in his head was a mystery to be unraveled on another day. For now Fenris gave into instinct, met Anders's gaze, and plowed straight forward. 

“Victoria will never be made to bow her head or apologize for who she is. She will be judged for her actions, not her ancestry.” Fenris said firmly. “I know you feel the same way about your son.” They both watched as the children, their children, passed the ball between them as they went down the field. 

“She's a mage, your daughter.” Anders remarked, shifting the conversation. “But you're not. Mother's side?” 

“Yes.” Fenris said. “Runs in the family.” His side of the family, certainly. 

“And that picture.” Anders pushed a little further. “That elven woman, with the red hair.” 

“Her name was Varania.” Fenris replied, his voice barely audible over the sound of the children shouting and cheering. “She was my sister.” Anders remained silent, and Fenris felt the words being ripped from his throat to fill that void. He had never spoken of it with anyone, not really. 

“We were poor in Tevinter. Most elves are. I was scooped up and danced for a company. I thought it was normal, that the way I was treated was natural for my age.” Fenris frowned. “It wasn't. It was Isabela who found me at my worst. She took me with her. We ended up in Kirkwall.” 

Those years were hard. Fenris and Isabela lived on pennies. They gave dance lessons by day, worked whatever jobs they could in their free time, danced shows at night back to back to back, but Fenris was happy. He was making money, honest money, and it was his. All his, to save or spend as he pleased. It was a luxury that still took getting used to, even after all these years. 

“Varania worked in a factory back in Minrathous. She fell in with a bad crowd. One day she called me.” Fenris shivered despite the heat, his mind taken back to that phone call nine years ago at two in the morning. 

_“Leto? Leto, I'm- I have to leave. I can't stay here!” The voice was nearly hysterical, her words hard to understand, but there were only two people who ever called Fenris “Leto.”_

 _“Varania?” He mumbled, slowly coming into wakefulness. Isabela stirred on the mattress next to him, the two sharing body heat to avoid going over their gas bill. “Varania, what's wrong?”_

 _

“I lost my job. I'm pregnant. Mother's dead.” Varania laughed bitterly. “I'm standing outside in the rain and wondering if I should just jump off a bridge. Nothing ever turns out right, Leto, nothing!” 

“Varania, stay calm, I'll... I'll figure something out. I'll bring you here.” He had saved the money, He could save her, bring her to Kirkwall, make his family whole again...

_

“I sent money and a travel permit so she could leave Minrathous. She took a ship and came here.” Fenris continued dully. “Her boyfriend knocked her up and knocked her around, and she had no one else to turn to. Only me.” Fenris had little to his name back then, but he gave Varania everything he had. His sister had trouble adjusting to life with him, but she was happy to be in Kirkwall, happy to be with her little brother. She was happy, and that was all that mattered. 

_“This is... these past few months have been a dream, Leto.” Varania said as she leaned back on the disgusting, worn down couch that he, Isabela, and Varania shared. “I have my own bed, there's fresh food, the water is clean... this is better than I ever imagined.” She sighed, wriggling her feet, her toes painted dark purple. Isabela helped her paint them, she said, because she could no longer touch her feet. The baby was round and giant and very active. Varania was having trouble sleeping._

 _“You deserve it.” Fenris replied, brushing his sister's red hair with his hands, threading the thick strands through his fingers. Varania's hair was their mother's hair. Fenris's was once a dark, rich brown that had gone white by the time he was twenty-two. “Have you thought of a name yet?”_

 _

“Hmmm...” Varania hummed. “No. I want it to be right. I don't want to rush it.” 

“Think of one soon.” Fenris teased, a smile curling at his mouth. “Or I will name them. I am thinking... Hortense.” 

“You would not!” Varania shrieked, and the two burst into wild laughter, the sound echoing through the tiny apartment. It warmed the space and made it a home.

_

“So she came to Kirkwall.” Anders prompted. His voice was gentle. Fenris had not realized Anders could be gentle with anyone other than his son. “And what happened next?” 

“Childbirth.” Fenris whispered. It had been long, difficult, a drawn out delivery and no one would tell him anything. He was frightened for his sister, for the baby, for himself. He was so afraid that he wanted to run, but felt that he couldn't. 

_Isabela sat on one side of him, Sebastian on the other. Sebastian had the good grace to tell light-hearted, distracting stories in his smooth, rhythmic, strong voice. Isabela squeezed his hand and reminded him that they would be there for whatever happened. A nurse finally emerged and said “family only,” and Fenris's anxiety dropped into dread._

 _Varania lay back against cushions of the medical bed, clutching a bundle of fabric to her and beaming a tired, blissful smile. She looked drained of energy and color, but content. She lifted her eyes and grinned at him, a proud expression full of joy and hope. Fenris approached anxiously, peering over to take in the red, wrinkly face of his niece._

 _

“Fenris, this is Victoria.” She said, and Fenris shared her knowing smile. Victoria for victory. A triumph after all the struggles they suffered. Victoria would never know hunger or thirst or cold. She would be protected by her mother, her uncle, and all of their friends. His sister's daughter, Victoria. 

“I have a family.” Fenris thought proudly as he held the tiny baby close to his chest. His niece, the newest member of his family, who he barely knew but loved with all of his heart. In those fragile moments the world was bright and wonderful and good, and Fenris believed that finally, finally he had a family and they would never suffer what their ancestors did. They would be happy.

_

“There were complications.” Fenris managed to say. “And Varania died. Internal bleeding. No one could stop it in time.” The world seemed slow now, everything far away as Fenris relived those dark moments all those years ago. 

“So Victoria....” Anders murmured into the heavy silence. 

“Is my daughter.” Fenris stated firmly, remembering Victoria's own words. “I raise her and love her and make sure she is safe. She is my child.” Victoria for victory, he had thought, and Victoria's life would be the victory that he, that Varania, that their mother had always dreamed of. 

“I'm sorry for your loss.” Anders said. His hand reached out towards his shoulder, as if he wanted to grab it, wanted to comfort him with a physical touch, but Fenris shrunk away. The memories rubbed him raw, and his very skin felt prickly and uncomfortable. 

“It was a long time ago.” Fenris muttered. 

“Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.” Anders reasoned. They were silent again. The children lined up to shake hands with each other and end their practice. 

“Do you want to come and walk Bear with us?” Anders offered suddenly. “It'll be good for him, being around other people. Victoria seems to like him, and he likes both of you. Maybe you could take him sometime for a few days? Give him a new place to get used to?” 

“You want us to take him in.” Fenris remarked. “Mabari are rather large.” 

“They're good apartment dogs. Lazy,but smart.” Anders remarked. “They understand rules.” He shrugged. “You don't have to come along to the park, but it would be... it would be good to have you both with us.” 

Fenris didn't quite understand why Anders wanted him to go to the park, but then he caught a glimmer, a sort of understanding, deep in those amber eyes. Anders didn't want Fenris to come to the dog park to walk a dog. He wanted to talk. Anders wanted to talk, and what was Fenris supposed to do with that? But then the children were there, bouncing and cheering and tumbling around with the clumsy, over-enthusiastic mabari, rolling in the grass and laughing. 

“Papa! Papa, did you talk to Mr. Nick's Dad? Did you?” Victoria asked, and Fenris knew what his answer was. 

“We will go. Get it the car.” Fenris said, meeting Anders's surprised expression with a calmness that he he did not feel. If Anders wished to talk, Fenris reasoned, they would talk. He deserved the same courtesy.

\- 

Anders walked through the park, slightly dazed as Fenris walked beside him. The kids were taking turns walking Bear, the mabari handling the ordeal with great dignity and many slobbery kisses. Fenris was a surprisingly warm presence at his side, and Anders's fingers twitched. Everything about this moment was perfect, everything he ever wanted in life, but the man at his side was... well, he wasn't what Anders expected. 

“You had something to say.” Fenris stated instead of questioned, and Anders wondered if his brusque mannerisms were because of his past or despite it. 

“I just... you care about your daughter. You want her to have a better life.” Anders said slowly, trying to understand why Fenris acted the way he did, why he was so fierce and protective one moment, yet shied away from conflict at the next. “I don't understand why you don't... participate more! Fight back at those meetings! You know some of those parents, they'd do anything to keep the school pro-Chantry and anti-everyone else, so why-” Anders sighed then, a helpless little breath between anger and resignation. “I don't understand.” 

“Some of us prefer to not engage with fools.” Fenris replied. Anders snuck a peek at the man walking beside him. He sounded so aristocratic then, his head tilted up, his mouth set in a small sneer. Anders giggled, a sound that hadn't graced his lips in years. When Fenris looked at him, Anders stopped up his laughter and smiled. Fenris looked so terribly offended and proud, like an irritated cat or one of those more dignified sheep-dogs who felt like they were too refined for things like belly rubs. 

“You're a bit of a snob, aren't you?” Anders teased, pleased when Fenris wrinkled his nose and glared at him. It was better than before, where Fenris looked lost and hurt and afraid as he spilled out bits and pieces of his past, of his life. And even though the story was disjointed and so much was left out, Anders had a fine enough ear and plenty of sympathy to hear what lay underneath the short words. 

“Perhaps.” Fenris said slowly, “But I prefer to have standards.” 

“Ha. Good point.” The two watched as Nick and Victoria threw a tennis ball for Bear to catch. The hound dutifully brought it back, but flopped onto his back and rolled over, demanding belly rubs that the children were all too glad to give. 

“Nick is the most important person in my life.” Anders eventually said. Fenris would understand. He was the only person who could possibly understand. “He changed everything for me.” 

“Everything?” Fenris did not sound skeptical, only curious. Anders was solemn as he stared out over the park, his hand unconsciously reaching up to pull at the ring he wore around his neck. 

“My husband died ten years ago this winter.” Anders said quietly, just for Fenris's ears alone. Fenris was quiet as he digested this new information. His expression remained neutral, but his eyes were curious. There was a glimmer of sympathy there, an indication that Fenris understood and related to the pain of losing a loved one. 

“Karl was... Maker, he was the kindest person you could ever meet. Funny, too, when you could pry a joke out of him.” Anders laughed a bit. “We went to the same Circle counselor to talk about our magic. That's how we met. I was a troublemaker, he was straight-laced, and they thought maybe he could calm me down. Get me to behave.” They weren't wrong, exactly. Anders did settle down, but he also made Karl Thekla, the model mage student, misbehave and have fun. 

_“Anders, I just got back from- are you baking?” Karl entered the dorm kitchen at two in the morning after a night of intensive studying. “Anders, is that-”_

 _“Shhhhh!” Anders hissed, a grin peeking out from behind his hand. “And close the door!”_

 _

“Anders!” Karl scolded as he shut the flimsy wooden door quietly behind him. “Anders, you're making pot brownies!” 

“It's an experiment, Karl. I thought you approved of my curiosity!” Anders batted his eyelashes coyly, tilting his head and shaking his long hair out of his eyes in the way he knew Karl liked best. 

“This is why I'm going gray, you- ugh!” Karl huffed and crossed the floor in two easy steps, taking Anders in his arms. “You are absurd.” He murmured into Anders's hair. 

“I'll save you a batch.” Anders said mischievously, wrapping his arms around Karl's neck to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You've been working so hard, after all.”

_

“We married young. Stupidly in love, or in love and stupid. But we were happy. So happy.” Anders thought back to the day they got married, then the day they entered their first home. His first day at his job. Karl's first day at his own job. So many firsts. And then there was the Accident. 

“Then, about a year after we were married, I got a call.” Anders's voice was even softer now. “Car accident. Karl was in a coma. Brain dead. He had no other family but me. I had to... I had to pull the plug.” Anders shivered despite the heat of the day, remembering a cold that went beyond temperature and sank into his very bones. 

“I'm a spirit mage, Fenris. We're healers by nature, and I'm one of the best. But there was... there was nothing I could do. I was helpless.” He continued after a moment where he tried to pull himself together. Even now it was difficult to talk about Karl. How many nights had he curled up on Karl's side of the bed, weeping helplessly as he curled around Pounce and prayed to Andraste, to the Maker, to anyone who would listen that he would die in his sleep and wake next to Karl's side. But it never happened. 

“I went wild. Karl was dead and I didn't care about anything anymore.” Anders said. “I sold the house and went traveling. Running, really. Partied hard, slept with everyone because I could and I didn't care who touched me because- because-” 

“Because it stopped the hurt. At least for a time.” Fenris said, so understanding that Anders knew he was opening up to the right person. Fenris understood pain. He understood what it made people do. 

“I didn't care. I mean, I was relatively careful. Condoms, safe sex, regular checkups so I wouldn't get someone else sick. But then, on my anniversary, I just... I was stupid.” Anders admitted. “Stupider than usual. Slept with a woman, got her pregnant.” 

“Nick's mother.” Fenris supplied. Anders nodded. 

“Just my luck, she was okay with fucking a mage. Having a mage child though? Not her thing. She wanted a baby, though, and we thought we'd give it a shot.” It was a bad time. The woman didn't want anything to do with him, really, just wanted a child. She was desperate, though, and eager enough to raise the baby as long as it was completely hers. Anders was not to be involved. That was the plan until Nick was born and her worst fears were realized. He was a mage. His magic had not yet manifested but its signature was present in his body. She left the hospital as soon as she healed up, eager enough to use magic to heal her injuries from childbirth and walk away. 

_“Mr. Anderson?” The older doctor, a mage woman, lay a wrinkled hand on his shoulder. “There is always the option to give him up for adoption. The mother has signed away all her rights to the child.” Always allowed in the case of a mage child, Anders thought bitterly._

 _“No.” Anders said, certain and firm. “He is my son. I will raise him.” This child was his responsibility. It was his duty to care for his son, a mage who needed guidance and love. Wasn't this what he and Karl planned once? When they were older, when Anders was more settled and they both saved up money to afford to raise a child properly? Now here he was, without Karl and not at all prepared. He had to shape up. He had to be better. Anders straightened his spine. It was a test. A challenge to change himself for the better._

 _

It was the type of challenge Karl would have given him. Anders would not fail it. 

“I would like to see my son now.” Anders told the woman. “If he's healthy, we're ready to go home.”

_

“She realized Nick was a mage nearly the moment he was born. She left us and never looked back. I never looked for her either.” Anders said, still bitter over this betrayal. “Far as I'm concerned, she's dead to me.” 

“It is better that way.” Fenris said harshly. Anders was shocked by the vehemence in Fenris's voice. He had not realized how strong Fenris's attachment to his son truly was. Not until that very moment, as he took in the fire in Fenris's eyes and the set expression of his face. Fenris loved Nick, Anders realized, loved him as fiercely as he loved Victoria. Anders felt the same, his affection for the bright eyed girl and her irritable father a warm bubble in his chest, ready to burst. 

“I think so too. I'm glad Nick found Victoria. He needs a friend like her.” Anders remarked slowly, placing the words in a careful formation. 

“We are both happy to know Nick. He is a good influence on Victoria as well.” Fenris said nonchalantly. Almost uncaring, Anders thought as he noticed the tips of Fenris's ears turning a healthy shade of pink. 

“I'm glad we know you too.” Anders said impulsively, giving into the urge to take Fenris's hand and hold it, trying to relay just how grateful he was that he was no longer alone, that someone else understood him. He held Fenris's slim, calloused hand in his own as he met Fenris's shocked green eyes. Fenris clasped his hand back, the shock giving way to curiosity, and he looked more quizzical than angry. It was a nice expression. Sweet, uncertain, and Anders wondered what Fenris would taste like if he just leaned down and tilted his head slightly to the left... 

“Mr. Nick's Dad! Can Papa and I really take Bear home for a day? Really?” Victoria's shout interrupted the moment, and the two dropped each other's hands and stepped away. She raced up to the two men, either not noticing or not caring that the two adults were having a bit of a moment. “I'll give him food and water and two long walks every day he's with us, I promise!” 

“Mr. Fenris, Bear's not any trouble, he's very good! He always listens to commands and he's house trained!” Nick exclaimed. As if to demonstrate Nick's point, the three-legged mabari turned in a circle and sat tall and proud, head lifted up and stumpy tail wagging. The effect was ruined by the tongue poking out of his mouth. Fenris looked over at Anders helplessly and Anders smiled. 

“Bear has to get his stitches taken out first.” Anders said gently. “Then we'll talk about fostering. All four of us. It's a big decision.” 

“And we will discuss it.” Fenris found his voice as Victoria opened her mouth to protest. “There is a lot to consider when caring for someone, Victoria.” 

“I know, papa, but.... promise you will think about it? Really think about it?” She pleaded, leaning into Fenris's leg and gazing up into her father's face with those eyes- Fenris's eyes, green and big and right now wide and pleading. Anders didn't know how Fenris resisted them. He knew he would spoil Victoria rotten if she turned that gaze on him. Maker's arse, he'd spoil _Fenris_ rotten if Fenris ever utilized the puppy eyes. 

“I promise.” Fenris said solemnly, as if reciting an oath. “I will consider us fostering Bear.” 

“Thank you, papa! You're the best!” Victoria said happily, giving her father a hug before kissing Bear on the top of his dusty russet colored head. Nick was smiling too, and they walked away with the dog. 

“Now we can try and teach him to stand on his back legs and shake!” Nick said cheerfully as they walked. Anders and Fenris stood back and watched. Anders felt completely at peace as he watched the children play in the park with a large dog, Fenris standing silently at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read, left kudos, comments, and bookmarks! I'm glad everyone is enjoying the story. It means a lot to hear your feedback, so thank you all!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To be a PTA parent, one must attend a PTA meeting.

The kids bounced into Anders's car, hopping in their seats. Their limbs were a flurry of movement as they buckled up and sat in the back. Their words filled the cab with cheer and sound. 

“How was school?” Anders asked as he pulled away from the school pick up area. Fenris said to drop Victoria off at the studio, and even suggested that he and Nick stay so they could all go to the PTA meeting together. Anders was no longer surprised by Fenris's offers to be around each other. After that afternoon in the dog park, Fenris seemed more open, more at ease, than before. The tension in him dissipated like morning fog over a river. 

“Oh, and we all played with Falafel during circle time, and then Ms. Merrill told us to bring something special for sharing day on Thursday! I want to bring my picture album, but I maybe I should bring my soccer cleats, 'cause those photos are really special and what if I lose them? Or if someone puts glue on them?” Victoria chattered on excitably. Anders looked at them through the mirror and returned Victoria's broad smile. 

“Talk with your papa. He can give you a few suggestions.” He said, turning right at the light. Victoria nodded and turned to Nick, patting him on the arm. 

“Nick! Aren't you going to tell him?” She cajoled. 

“Later.” Nick mumbled shyly, looking down at his feet. “I'll tell him later.” 

“Tell me what?” Anders asked. 

“He'll be really happy, trust me!” Victoria said. Nick's face grew a bright pink, and he squirmed a bit in his seat before he reached into his bag and pulled out a piece of paper with a large golden star sticker on it. 

“I got a one hundred on my math quiz.” Nick said carefully. “Ms. Merrill gave me a gold star.” 

“Nick, that's wonderful!” Anders exclaimed, smiling at his son, joy filling his chest. Nick smiled back, his shoulders straightening and his eyes bright. “I'm very proud of you, Nick!” 

“See! Told you!” Victoria said, red braids twitching as she bounced in her seat. “Hey, Mr. Nick's Dad! I got a one hundred on my spelling test! Are you proud of me too?” 

“Of course, Victoria.” Anders replied. He was a little surprised at how honest the statement was, but he was proud of this girl, proud of her accomplishments and proud that she shared them with him. He pulled into the studio parking lot and the kids tumbled out of the car and raced into the studio, Anders following behind. The children were lurking outside in the hallway, peeking into one of the doorways. Soft music came from within, alongside rhythmic footfalls. 

“Papa's giving a private lesson.” Victoria whispered. “We can wait til he's done.” She tugged Nick's arm. “We can go meet Auntie Isabela, if she's not teaching anything-” The children walked past Anders to go to the next studio across the way, and Anders almost made to follow them. But something, his curiosity, perhaps, urged him to stay behind and see what Fenris was up to. 

He knew Fenris danced, that he taught lessons and was apparently good enough to travel Tevinter and the rest of Thedas in different dance troupes. While Anders bothered to look up Fenris's bio on the dance school website, he hadn't exactly gone out of his way to find videos of Fenris dancing. He wasn't sure what stayed his hand. Perhaps it felt like a violation of something private, or something special. Anders was curious, he knew that much, and he wanted to see Fenris dance. The man was graceful, he knew that much just from watching him walk, stalking around like a wolf on the prowl. Graceful, lean, powerful, dangerous. To see those limbs arc and sway and leap and twirl would be... would be... 

Would be horribly inappropriate, Anders scolded himself. This was not the time to think about Fenris in that manner. Never the time! The man was Victoria's father, for Andraste's sake! Anders poked his head around the doorway just to make sure that Fenris really was in and the children weren't pulling his leg. 

Fenris stood in sunlight, his hair white and gleaming like a saint's halo. He was standing straight and slim, his limbs relaxed and to his sides. A small young elven woman stood off to the side near a CD player. She hit a button, stopping the music. And Fenris was talking then, his rich voice filling the room. 

“The movements are delicate, but strong. The emotions are soft.” Fenris adjusted his feet and position, straightening his spine and lifting his head. “Sweet.” Fenris was moving then, his feet crossing the floor like cat footfalls, whisper soft and lightening quick. Anders marveled at the strength in those limbs, at the way Fenris arched his arm and leg and made it look easy. There was power there, in every smooth muscle and corded tendon in that lean body, but Fenris masked that power with soft movements and delicate motions. He was like a moth, a feather drifting down, a thread of spider silk blowing in a mild spring breeze. Anders caught a glimpse of Fenris's face and was utterly enchanted. 

Fenris was smiling. Not a large smile, but a small one, a pleased one that reached into his green eyes and transformed them from simple green to something beautiful and breathtaking and had Anders ever seen Fenris smile before? No, he hadn't. But now he had, and all he wanted to do was get Fenris to smile at him, smile because of something Anders did or said. Fenris seemed different when he was happy, and Andraste's Tits, dancing made him happy. It made Fenris very, very happy, if the smile on his face and the relaxed swaying of his body was any indication to his mood. The tension in his shoulders, the set frown on his brow, they were all melted away in the gentle swell of music and warm sunlight pouring through the high windows. 

“You must remember to relax, Orana.” Fenris lectured, returning Anders to the moment in front of him. “You will excel, so long as you remember to breathe and relax.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Fenris.” The girl, Orana, said shyly. “It is the greatest honor to work with you, thank you for your patience-” 

“You are a fine student.” Fenris said, and Anders knew, just knew, that this was high praise. “Continue to work hard, and practice what we've discussed. I will see you next week.” 

Orana left the room, her blonde hair swaying in its high ponytail. She did not see Anders waiting by the door, and almost bumped into him. She mumbled an apology and rushed past him. Anders watched her leave, and was startled by Fenris's voice rumbling in his ear. 

“Have you filled your daily quota of nosiness today, Anders? I am certain if you hurry, you could glimpse the end of the basic ballroom course Isabela teaches.” Fenris said solemnly, his breath ghosting over the sensitive flesh of his ear. Anders cursed and turned around, Fenris scant inches away from him- how had he moved so quickly and silently? Anders was so preoccupied by the bead of sweat slowly crawling down Fenris's long, gorgeous neck that he almost missed the wry little upturn of Fenris's rather full lips. Soft lips. Nope, not going to even entertain those thoughts right now. Anders thanked Andraste's bountiful bosom that his scrubs were so loose, and that he had a lifetime of unpleasant images to kill the slight hardening of his cock. 

“Oh, no, I'm good. Very good.” Anders babbled. “Just waiting for you to finish up your lesson, that's all.” 

“Hmmm.” Fenris hummed, looking up at Anders through long, dark eyelashes. “And waiting requires watching?” 

“I didn't... mean to watch.” Anders said. “I just wanted to see if you were in, and then-” 

“Then?” Fenris prompted. 

“I couldn't stop watching.” He confessed. “You dance beautifully, Fenris.” 

Fenris was quiet after that. He was also blushing, a pretty blush that stained his cheeks and the very tips of his ears. Fenris sort of leaned in, his eyes wide, and his expression seemed embarrassed but pleased. Proud even. He opened his mouth as if to say something, shut it, and glanced away from Anders. 

“I... I need to take a shower. You and the children can come upstairs.” Fenris mumbled, brushing past him to briskly walk down the hallway. Anders blinked. What was all that about? A mystery for another time, Anders supposed, and he went to get the children and follow Fenris upstairs into his apartment.

\- 

Fenris stood under the cold spray of the shower and scolded himself for what felt like the hundredth time. Anders was not to be flirted with. Anders was not to be flirted with. Anders was not to be flirted with. He recited this in his head as he scrubbed his skin with a wet washcloth. Anders was not to be flirted, toyed, or played with, and Fenris was most certainly not going to drag the man into his studio to see what he danced like. He would not wind his arms around Anders's neck and lean up to tug him down and kiss his lips and feel his perpetual scruff rub and burn across his face. He would not pull him to the floor and strip him bare to engage in another sort of dance- Fenris growled under his breath and turned the water even colder to shock him out of these thoughts. 

You dance beautifully, Anders said. He looked so strange when he said that, those sharp brown-gold eyes dazed and words low. That was how Fenris knew the words were honest. Anders thought Fenris danced well. More than well. Beautifully. It was not a far step, Fenris knew, from being thought to dance beautifully to being considered beautiful not as a dancer, but as a man. He snorted and turned the water off, stepping out of the shower to towel himself off. Fenris was no beauty. His expressions were too hard, his glower too fierce. He was too tall as an elf, too muscled for some tastes, too lanky for others. Then there were the scars. The many, many scars, scars that could not be hidden even under the delicate line work of white-ink tattoos that spanned his body. No, Fenris was not beautiful, and he found himself grateful that Anders said he danced beautifully. If he had said that he was beautiful while giving him that awed, admiring look... well, Fenris didn't know what he would have done. Something idiotic, no doubt. 

“Venhedis.” Fenris muttered, glaring at his reflection in the mirror. He was no beauty. That was Anders. Anders was tall, pale, with golden hair streaked with bits of red and eyes that were like sunlight pouring through dark honey. Fenris was certain that, if he stripped off Anders's shirts, he would spy a star map of freckles across the man's body. There was muscle under those ugly scrubs. Fenris knew that a man who wrestled down baby dragons to clip nails and lifted full-grown mabari onto examination tables had to be built. Anders's skin would be freckled but smooth, unblemished by scarring. Unmarred, unbent, unbroken Anders was the beautiful one. He frowned and resolved to think no more of it. 

Fenris dressed quickly in his bedroom. Snatches of conversation from the living room reached him as he tugged on a collared shirt and pair of dark jeans. 

“And this is a picture of my mama and papa together!” Victoria said brightly. 

“Your mama is very pretty, Victoria.” Nick replied softly. “Who's that?” 

“Uncle Sebastian. He and papa like to share books. They read a lot.” Fenris just knew what kind of face Victoria was making as she said that. She did not have the patience for long stretches of reading, or anything that required her to stay still. “But papa is very good at telling stories.” 

“Oh, dad, you could share some books too! Mr. Fenris has lots of books, and so do you!” Nick sounded excited by the prospect. Fenris exited his room and walked down the hallway to the living room. 

“We'll see.” Anders replied. “You both have your homework, right?” Fenris emerged as Anders spoke, and saw that Victoria and Nick were sitting on the couch. Victoria had a photo album spread out on her lap, and they were looking at the photos. Anders stood behind the couch, also gazing at the photos. 

“Are you ready to go?” Fenris asked. The children hopped off the couch, Victoria clutching the photo album to her chest. Fenris wondered what motivated her to pull that particular album out of the several they had. It was one of the larger ones, and had no theme like the others. Fenris had a fondness for pictures that most recently dovetailed into his growing interest in scrapbooking. The idea of preserving memories, of keeping them in a book that you and others could look back on, intrigued him. He did not have much in his past that he wanted to remember, but he had a small collection of grainy family photos to remind him of few better times in Tevinter. Photos of his mother, of his sister, his official elementary school yearbook pictures, and one hazy photo of his father and himself napping on a couch when Fenris was toddler. It was all he carried and it was his entire world. He liked preserving that in scrapbooks, something that was practical and beautiful and held memories better than a feeble and faltering mind. 

“We need to get our homework first. Papa, can I bring the photo album to Sharing Day?” Victoria asked, turning her pleading eyes upon him. He had years of experience saying no to those eyes, so he used it now. 

“No. It is too heavy for you to carry all day.” Fenris said, raising his hand as Victoria opened her mouth to protest. “You may, however, take a smaller scrapbook.” This seemed to mollify Victoria, and she placed the album back down on the coffee table. 

“We'll get our worksheets, then.” She said cheerfully as she and Nick retreated to her room. Anders gave Fenris an almost apologetic sort of look. 

“Victoria wanted to show us photos.” Anders said. “I hope you don't mind.” 

“It is fine.” Fenris replied, and it was. He liked that Victoria wanted to share more of herself with others, that she was opening up and letting people get to know her. Even though she was friendly and cheerful, Fenris noticed that his daughter could also be very private. He was glad she was opening up, and he was glad it was with someone like Anders. Anders was a good man and a good father, and Fenris knew it was safe to share his memories, his past, his life, with Anders. He could share precious people, like Victoria and even Varania. Fenris supposed it was just good to share his sister with someone other than Isabela or Sebastian, who barely knew her before she died. Sometimes it was hard to talk to Victoria about her mother, and she never asked too many questions about her. But Anders understood loss, understood losing a loved one. 

“I never would have pegged you as the scrapbooking type.” Anders remarked. He was staring at the album, and the pages it was opened to. Fenris saw that there were four photos, two on each page. 

The first was of him and Varania sitting on a bench. He remembered what day that was. He spent some of his money on ice cream and they people watched on the beach. Isabela had taken that photo. There was a photo of him and Isabela dancing together, teaching a class of engaged couples how to dance a proper waltz- Hawke was the one who took the photo. There was a picture of Victoria and himself. Victoria's chin and hands were sticky with watermelon juice. She was about five in that picture. The last picture was of Fenris on the beach, silhouetted by the sun. It was out of focus and slightly off center, and Fenris knew Victoria took the picture. He put it in the album because it wasn't just his collection of memories, and Victoria needed some of her own documentation in there as well. He rather liked the photo. His tattoos and scarring were barely visible in it. 

“That must be Isabela.” Anders pointed to the picture of them dancing and smiling at each other. Fenris nodded. 

“Yes. She is my business partner. And my friend.” Fenris said. 

“Good friend.” Anders remarked. There was something strange to his voice, Fenris thought, some tension that made it clear that Anders was unhappy. It was almost as if Anders were jealous, but that was unlikely. Wasn't it? Fenris looked closer, at the tenuous tightness at the corners of his mouth, at the slight furrow between his brows. It was jealousy, and Fenris had no idea why Anders would be jealous of Isabela. 

“Yes. A friend.” Fenris said slowly. “Like a sister, almost.” 

“Oh.” Anders looked sheepish then. Shy. “She seems nice.” He added, looking back at the photo. Isabela had thrown on a long, swirling skirt to dance in, but Fenris wore his customary leggings and tank top. They did look rather graceful, Fenris acknowledged, but Isabela was always graceful when she danced. 

“She's a flirt and what some would call a slattern.” Fenris replied fondly. “But she is kind. Most people don't realize how kind.” People got distracted by Isabela's beauty and charm, and did not recognize her other brilliant qualities, such as her quick eye and strong personal moral code. Without Isabela, Fenris would have never left Tevinter. 

“She saved my life. In saving my life, she saved my family.” Fenris said quietly, for Anders alone. “Isabela helped me realize what my potential was. I would be nothing without her.” 

“You don't give yourself enough credit.” Anders remarked. “You built this place too.” 

“I was young and stupid, too proud and blind to see what was in front of me.” Fenris said, residual shame coloring his words. “If Isabela hadn't come along...” 

He had been under Danarius's thumb for so long, for all his early years as a dancer. He believed that Danarius thought he was special, and accepted everything that happened to him because he loved Danarius. All he wanted was to please his manager, his trainer, the man who owned him in practically every way. He pushed himself to his limits, he worked, he did everything he was asked to do, and gained nothing for it. Then there was that night, that night in Minrathous where they worked with a dance troupe from Rivain, and he danced a pas de deux with a stunning dark haired woman with gold in her ears and a smile on her lips. And she took his hand and told him he was worth more than a man who would scar him and starve him and withhold his wages and call it fair. They left that night, him sneaking into the troupe with only Isabela's charm to protect him. 

“In any case, we must leave if we want to get to the meeting on time.” Fenris said, pulling himself out of his memories. Anders stirred beside him. 

“Yes. Of course.” Anders turned and gave Fenris a mischievous grin, as if they were in on some secret together. As if they were friends. “Ready to argue for two hours and get in a fist fight?” 

“You are the one who enjoys fighting, Anders.” Fenris remarked. “Not me.” 

“There's a lot to fight for, Fenris.” Anders said, and Fenris wondered what he could say in response to that. Nothing came to mind.

\- 

Anders had always been a confrontational type. He was born and raised on a nature-loving farming commune in the Anderfels before he was shipped off to Ferelden's Kinloch Circle to be fostered through a Chantry-run adoption agency especially crafted for mages when he was twelve. Then he was shuffled through foster homes until he was eighteen. Six whole years of foster homes, one for each year. There were the counselors, all the different counselors that mages were required to see once a month to ensure that they weren't a danger to society. There were the different homes, the different people, all the different rules Anders had to learn to survive his childhood. He either could have broken himself into so many pieces to be all the different things people wanted, or he could shore up the defenses and remain true to himself. 

Anders always chose the later. 

“And so you see, this is why we must stand together and protest this latest blatant attempt from the Chantry to expand their influence over the independent school system.” Anders concluded. The peanut butter and chocolate dessert bars he brought disappeared an hour ago, and he just argued against the use of a certain set of history textbooks for the fifth grade classes next year. 

“Mr. Anderson, does any of this have a point?” One woman asked, boredom dripping from every word. Anders knew it was one of his severest critics who spoke, a woman who had a pull with the PTA for many years. She currently had a daughter in the fifth grade class, another daughter in the second grade, and her son in kindergarten. She also spent most of her time in PTA meetings loudly complaining about how difficult it was to raise three children all by herself as the elven nanny she hired made sure the children were washed, fed, did their homework, and were given all the love and attention they needed. 

“The point, Mrs. Grayson, is that a religious organization should not have this amount of control over text book selections in an independent school system. If it were a Chantry affiliated school this would be less problematic, but it is not.” Anders repeated, his patience already thin, stretched thinner than Mrs. Grayson's fuchsia pink lips. 

“It's not that big of a deal, Mr. Anderson. We're all Andrastians, and Chantry schools have the best rating.” Mrs. Grayson said smugly. Other parents tittered in agreement. “I think we should move on to more... relevant topics. Like the bake sale.” 

“A bake sale is more important than indoctrination?” Anders could not believe it. Actually, he could. Being ignored and dismissed was the story of his life at this point. “So you approve of textbooks that sidestep elven history, only discuss Andrastianism as a religious movement, not a political or military organization that oppressed millions, and portray magic as a curse?” Silence greeted his commentary, the sort of silence that cut like a knife. 

“So should we restructure the entire system to benefit a few students who might be elves or mages?” Mrs. Grayson finally said, her voice once again condescending and cool. “That's just impractical, Mr. Anderson. Why should my children have to use another textbook just to spare your child's feelings?” 

“Did you just say your children are more important than anyone else's?” Anders asked, as the other parents murmured, clearly uncomfortable with the turn this debate had taken. Anders did not care. No one, no one, threatened his son's happiness or education. No one. 

“No! I just don't see the point in-” That point, Anders noticed, had put Mrs. Grayson on edge. She was tapping her foot against the tile. 

“You don't see much, do you Mrs. Grayson?” The snarky comment just flew from his mouth. 

“Why I never- How dare you- I should!” Mrs. Grayson sputtered out. 

“You should shut your mouth, Susan. You only wish to discuss the bake sale so you can delay discussing the unequal division of the PTA budget. A budget that you spearheaded, as I recall.” A deep voice growled, harsh yet smooth and so very, very angry. Fenris? It had to be Fenris. No one had a voice like Fenris. It was unmistakeable. 

Anders couldn't believe it. Fenris, participating in a PTA meeting? Fenris, making an effort to defend him? Anders twisted around in his seat to look at Fenris, who was sitting in his customary seat at the back of the hall. When Anders made eye contact with him, he could have sworn Fenris smiled. At the very least his lip twitched in a smirk, and there was a definite head tilt of acknowledgement. 

“This is not a matter for the few students. We have a significant elven student body, and promoting diversity is of primary importance.” One elven woman said, a young woman with those Dalish symbols, the vallaslin, tattooed in delicate swirling patterns all over her face. Anders recognized the tiny woman with the bird-like features and voice to be Nick's teacher, Ms. Merrill. “We also believe in teaching all of our students how to live with and respect all cultures and identities. Mr. Anderson's concerns over these latest textbooks are valid.” 

“And as Mr. Gatti brought up the subject,” Mrs. Vallen's sharp voice cut through the disorganized whispered gossip in the school cafeteria, where the meeting was being held. “We will now move on to discussing the allocation of PTA funds.”

Anders met with Fenris after the meeting, his empty tray of brownies held firmly in hand. 

“Thanks for earlier.” Anders said, shifting his weight from side to side. He had not expected Fenris to come to his defense. He had not expected anyone to agree with him, really, but he never expected help from Fenris. “It's... I'm pretty sure you don't have the best view of mages. I mean, you're from Tevinter, it can't have been good.” 

Fenris snorted in response, an exasperated sound that told Anders just how stupid his statement was without saying any words. 

“I know, stupid thing to say.” Anders apologized with a sigh. “I'm just... grateful for the support, you know?” 

“Some things are worth fighting for.” Fenris replied, repeating the words Anders said only an hour or so before. “My daughter is a mage and an elf. She will not be criticized for either in a place where she should feel safe and accepted.” 

“No one should ever feel that way.” Anders agreed, moving through the cafeteria to make his way to the gymnasium, where the children were making arts and crafts projects or doing homework. “I had enough of that growing up.” 

“Oh?” Fenris raised an eyebrow. Not a doubting, skeptical sort of look. Anders knew those ones very well. Fenris seemed curious. He walked beside Anders, not in front or behind, but right with him every step of the way. 

“I was passed off to different foster homes after my magic manifested when I was twelve.” Anders said after a moment of shared silence, where their footsteps echoed through the hallway. “Had to uproot my entire world six times before I was emancipated. Then I went to college and found some stability with Karl. Had the same counselor and everything. But it was a mess, having to grow up knowing everyone hates part of what you are and having to regurgitate everything to another balding man sitting in an armchair. Made sure Nick's counselor is decent, not like the people I had growing up.” 

“That... that is something I must do, and soon.” Fenris said reluctantly. “Find a proper counselor for Victoria. But so few are certified who will work with elves-” 

“Arseholes.” Anders said bitterly, but he had a solution to Fenris's problem. “Nick's counselor brought a counselor in her practice last year. She's relatively new to the field, but she's excellent. When Nick's counselor was sick he was sent over to her for a meeting. I still have her number somewhere...” 

“Text it to me.” Fenris said as they approached the gymnasium. “And... thank you, Anders.” 

“Ha, no problem!” Anders smiled, and Fenris's lips twitched in a motion that Anders firmly believed was an attempt to smile. Fenris brushed by him and opened the door, and Anders waited for the children to exit so they could all go to their separate homes for dinner and be ready for tomorrow. And maybe someday, Anders thought in the deepest depths of his mind, where even he was barely aware of the thought, maybe someday he and Nick, and Fenris and Victoria, they could all go home together and have dinner, either at home or at a restaurant, and they would eat like a family. 

But that was for another time.

\- 

Anders texted Fenris later that night, sending him the number of the counselor and her name and hours. There was a moment of silence on the other line, where Fenris read the message and before he replied, where Anders wondered if he was going to say anything. Eventually his phone pinged in response. 

“Thank you. I will call her tomorrow and make an appointment.” Anders chuckled. Fenris was so proper that he texted with perfect grammar, punctuation, and capitalization. 

“no prob, my pleasure ;P” Anders couldn't help but add the winking face. It was instinct by now, the need to flirt and tease, and well, Fenris was handsome and liked him well enough. It wasn't like it meant anything. Right? Horrified by the idea that he might have possibly insulted Fenris by overstepping boundaries that he didn't know if he should send an apology or throw his phone across the room and bury his head under his pillows. Ser Pounce-a-Lot jumped on the bed at that moment and curled up against Anders's chest, purring loudly. Anders reached up a hand and scratched Pounce's head. 

“Do you think he'll hate me, Pounce?” Anders asked the cat, who made a trilling meow before butting his head under Anders's chin and licking him with a rough cat tongue. The phone beeped again, and Anders scrabbled to read the message. 

“Victoria has requested for the twentieth time since this morning to 'think about fostering Bear.' I blame you.” Fenris texted. Anders could just hear the dry tone, the slight huff of pretend indignation. It made him feel light inside, playful and carefree. 

“haha, u have no choice now!!!” Anders typed, a grin on his face. “Bear's good for fostering in 2 weeks, let me know if u r interested” 

“Your text speak is abysmal, try to communicate with proper grammar and spelling.” The reply was instant, as if Fenris was waiting to respond. 

“U r such a hardass :c but I'll try for you!” Anders restrained himself and did not add an emoji. 

“I have a morning class to teach, I will be gong to bed now.” Fenris texted. 

“Good night!” Anders texted, waiting for the response. Minutes later he got it. 

“Good night, Anders. Get some rest.” Fenris responded, and Anders buried his face in Pounce's fur to hide his smile. Under all those scowls and tense posturing, Fenris did care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised a PTA meeting, so there's a PTA meeting. Soon there will be a soccer match and bake sale! Soon.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who reads, comments, bookmarks, and/or has left kudos on my works! I truly appreciate it! You guys are the best!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter on soccer and parenting.

Doctor Evelyn Trevelyn's office was small and cozy, a tiny corner office in an old, recently refurbished red-brick building. The office felt light and airy. The walls were painted a pale green, and there were plants in every spare spot, ferns. small trees, and flowers of all types. Sunlight fell through the windows. It felt like walking into a jungle, but a comfortable, tamed jungle artfully arranged to provide comfort and joy for those who walked into it. There was a tiny fountain bubbling on the corner of the desk. The armchairs were soft and covered in a butter-yellow fabric. Victoria bounced in her seat as she happily chatted to Doctor Trevelyn, or, as she insisted on being called, Evelyn. 

“Ms. Evelyn, if you need to. I don't really like honorifics.” She said when she stood up and greeted them both, her voice soft and measured. She had a slight accent that betrayed her non-Kirkwall origins, but Fenris could not place where she was from. She was young, at least a few years younger than him, and so petite that he thought she was an elf at first. Victoria seemed to take to her counselor very well, asking questions and chattering about everything from the weather to animals to the collection of succulents growing on the windowsill. 

“So are you a mage, Ms. Evelyn?” Victoria asked. Ms. Evelyn lifted one of her hands and brushed her long dark hair out of her face, her hair was so deep a black it was almost blue in the sunlight. She looked prim and proper and not at all what Fenris expected from someone who came highly recommended by Anders. He expected a few tattoos and piercings, and maybe a large “FUCK THE CHANTRY” banner strung across a wall. But no, there were a few certificates hung up on the wall (from Ostwick's Circle and Skyhold University), a painting of a sunny meadow with a dragon flying overhead, and a few tasteful pictures of family and friends. The only wild thing about this woman seemed to be her collection of plants that ran wild through her office. Otherwise, Fenris thought, Evelyn Trevelyn was decidedly ordinary. 

“Yes, Victoria. I am a mage.” Ms. Evelyn replied. “My family was from Ostwick. I'm primarily a force mage, though I can do a bit of healing.” She smiled at Victoria, her dark, almond-shaped eyes twinkling in amusement. “But you don't have to worry about specialization just yet, or ever. There's always time to learn something new. I'm still learning magic every day. You never have to stop learning.” 

“I'd like to be a spirit healer someday!” Victoria said enthusiastically. “Like Mr. Nick's Dad!” 

“A difficult branch of magic to study, but a noble one.” Ms. Evelyn said calmly. “I'll gather some materials for you and your father to read. Perhaps Mr., ah-” 

“Anderson.” Fenris supplied. “Mr. Constantine Anderson. He recommended your practice.” 

“Oh, Anders!” Ms. Evelyn exclaimed, her refined mannerisms disappearing like snowmelt. “Yes, I know him and Nick. He is quite the skilled healer, he would be an excellent help to Victoria.” She shook her head slightly at that. “But we're getting a little ahead of ourselves. So, Mr. Gatti, Victoria, could you both give me some background on Victoria's magic and how it manifests?” 

After the session, Ms. Evelyn handed Fenris a file folder filled with paperwork. Victoria was busy staring at all the cactuses on a shelf after she asked if Ms. Evelyn named her plants. 

“It's... required.” Her lips twitched into the faintest of scowls as Fenris took the folder. “We have to document lineages and such, to chart where the magic comes from. I find it to be invasive, but it is required. Fill in what you know.” 

“There is not much. Tevinter's records on the elven lower classes is not exactly complete.” Fenris said, and Ms. Evelyn smiled. 

“Then I say don't fill it in and say 'Records Incomplete.'” Ms. Evelyn said, and she met Fenris's surprised expression with a tiny smirk of her own, dark eyes filled with fire and mischief. “I prefer to keep my client's private life private, even from the all seeing eye of the Chantry.” 

“I see why Anders recommended you.” Fenris said dryly. 

Ms. Evelyn laughed at that, a laughter that came from deep within and shook her entire body. Fenris decided then that Anders had recommended the perfect counselor for Victoria. 

\- 

“Thank you for your recommendation.” Fenris told Anders the next time they saw each other. They were at the Saturday morning soccer game, sitting at the sideline in collapsable camping chairs. Anders brought a cooler filled with juice boxes for the team, and Fenris brought orange slices. Anders also brought Bear with him, much to Victoria's delight. The mabari was snuggled and pampered until Coach Donnic 

“Hmmm? Oh, Evelyn? I'm glad to help. She's good at her job.” Anders replied. “So you and Victoria like her?” 

“Victoria now wants a dog and a cactus. I told her to choose one or the other.” Fenris smirked then. “She informed me that I was being unfair and if she got one as a gift she would naturally pick the other for herself. I don't know where she learned to be so direct.” 

“Probably got it from you.” Anders teased, and Fenris flushed when Anders's turned his rather charming smile at him. He was very handsome, Fenris thought, and he wasn't used to someone paying attention to him, acting like they wanted him, without wanting anything in return. Anders made him feel paradoxically comfortable and uncomfortable all at once. How did one man accomplish that? 

“I confess, I had not expected her to be a mage counselor.” Fenris said, and hastily continued when Anders frowned at him. “There are so few, that is. I know little of magic, so I am grateful for her personal skill.” 

“You could always pick up a book.” Anders pointed out. 

“Perhaps.” Fenris frowned. “I fear that I may teach her wrong, that my own biases and fears will interfere with Victoria's lessons.” Anders opened his mouth to argue, to debate, to say something, and Fenris shook his head. “I would rather have Dr. Trevelyn helping Victoria.” Fenris said firmly. “She is trained and knows what she's talking about. You would not trust me to stitch a wound or set a broken limb, would you?” 

“You.... you make a good point.” Anders reluctantly agreed. “You wouldn't want me to teach a dance class, why would I expect you to teach magic?” 

“You could learn to dance. Your posture is good and you have some sense of rhythm.” Fenris acknowledged. Anders could dance beautifully with the proper instruction. Anders could dance beautifully with him. 

“I see you invited Hakwe to the game.” Fenris quickly changed the subject. He should not think about Anders that way, he should not! “Hawke and Varric.” Hawke and Varric stood a little ways off. Hawke was wearing bright red and stood nearly a head above the soccer moms in attendance. Varric stood next to Hawke, and the two were joking around with a woman in short white shirt and cutoff shorts. Fenris recognized Isabela instantly, especially when she threw her head back and laughed loudly at something Varric said. 

“I see you brought Isabela. And Sebastian.” Anders remarked. Sebastian stood next to Isabela and shook his head. He was wearing something more weather appropriate, a dark blue sweater and tan slacks. Fenris also noted that he and Isabela were standing closer together than usual, and he wondered if the two were ever able to “bring back the mood” he had so inadvertently killed when he called that night that seemed forever ago. 

“Victoria asked them to come and watch.” Fenris said. She had asked, insisted, really, that Uncle Sebastian and Aunt Isabela see her score a goal for her team, and the two could not refuse her. 

“Nick and Victoria's teacher is here too.” Anders pointed out the tiny elven woman, who had just approached the group and shyly introduced herself. Fenris could not help but notice her bright teal shirt, which clashed horribly with her maroon and gold scarf. 

“Is she wearing both team colors?” Fenris muttered to himself. It was horribly tacky, but for some reason it only looked silly and sweet on her, like a child dressing themselves for the first time without adult assistance. 

“She has students on each team.” Anders explained. “So she refuses to play favorites.” 

“She's a rather good teacher. I was surprised that she was willing to teach humans. I thought the Dalish were against that sort of thing.” Fenris said. “That they want to keep Dalish culture pure, even if that means rejecting other elves.” 

“She left her clan. Some issues with blood magic and a mirror- she's not teaching the children blood magic, Fenris, you can stop growling.”Anders hastily reassured Fenris, who was now sitting ramrod straight in his seat, hands tightly clutching the chair's arms. “It was more like she had to clean up the mess afterwards and wanted to go about it a different way, wanted to share elvish history with everyone before her entire clan's culture dies out on their reservation, but her Keeper disagreed. So she left.” 

“I see.” Fenris remarked quietly, and he relaxed slightly. For a moment he worried that Victoria could be in some danger, but if Anders was certain she and Nick were perfectly safe then he could put his mind at ease. Anders would never let the children come to harm. Victoria and Nick ran up to them down, Victoria's hair once again slipping out of her pigtails. 

“I'm going to score three goals, papa! Watch me!” Victoria said proudly, grinning from ear to ear. 

“I promise to watch.” Fenris said. “Be careful, both of you.” 

“We will, Mr. Fenris.” Nick replied dutifully before looking back. “Victoria, hurry! Coach Donnic's calling us!” 

“Victoria, stay still a moment, I'll fix your hair.” Anders piped up, his long, calloused fingers expertly weaving Victoria's vibrant strands into two thick braids that hit at her collarbone. “There, should stay in for the match and not get in your face.” He released Victoria's braids. 

“Thanks, dad!” Victoria called back as she sprinted away. Fenris stared after his daughter, eyes wide in shock. Maybe Anders didn't hear that. He hoped the man didn't hear it, it was one thing to foster a closer relationship with a friend's father and look up to them, it was entirely different thing to call them a father. Fenris slowly turned to meet Anders, whose face held an expression of bewildered shock that mirrored his own. 

_“What do we do about this?”_ His golden eyes seemed to ask. Fenris didn't know the answer to that question. 

\- 

It was at that moment their invited guests stormed their area and made themselves comfortable. The entourage, led by the boisterous Hawke, spread out a large picnic blanket and several chairs next to where Fenris and Anders set up their own belongings. Aveline, Coach Donnic's wife and one of Fenris's friends, placed her own chair nearby. 

“Good weather for a match.” She remarked to Fenris as she sat down. “Sunny. No wind.” 

“Lucky us.” Fenris managed to say. “How are you, Aveline?” 

“Well enough. Michelle has had trouble adjusting to the fifth grade. She's a whole head taller than the boys her age, save for the few qunari students. She doesn't like being the tallest.” Aveline sighed. “And don't get me started on Tobias.” 

“What happened this time?” Fenris asked, but he had a feeling he knew exactly what Aveline's eldest child was up to. Tobias had always been a live wire. 

“He has decided it is his great duty to end all oppression in Thedas. He got in another fight for beating up a student who was picking on a Dalish foreign exchange student. While I understand the sentiment, Donnic and I are at a loss with what to do with him.” Aveline sighed. “He shouldn't be picking fights, no matter how well-earned they are!” 

“I don't see the problem.” Anders immediately said, which did not surprise Fenris one bit. 

“You wouldn't. You enjoy fighting.” Aveline grumbled. “It's giving me a headache- not every problem can be solved by punching it!” 

“Surprised to hear that from you, Lady Manhands!” Isabela teased. “Don't you punch problems every day as police chief?” 

“And I solve most of my problems with punching!” Hawke said with a laugh. “Varric writes about it all the time!” 

“Which reminds me,” Varric said in his whiskey-warm voice that always settled disputes and calmed frayed nerves. “Hawke, remind your brother that I need an interview at some point for the magazine. Writing about a Templar with mage sympathies will make for a good article, and the other Templars I know are a little too private to conduct an interview.” 

“I'll let Carver know.” Hawke promised. “So, Fenris, you and Anders have been awfully chummy of late.” Hawke turned their wide smirk on him, and Fenris knew what lay behind Hawke's smile. Hawke wanted information, and they were determined to charm it out of him somehow. 

“Our children are friends.” Fenris said shortly. 

“Very good friends.” Anders added. 

“I'm so glad about that!” Ms. Merrill rushed to say. “Both of them are so accepting and kind, they play with everyone and always help each other with their homework! Victoria's spelling has improved so much, Mr. Gatti, you must be very proud!” Fenris noted that Ms. Merrill's short hair was laced with tiny plastic beads in the different team colors. Proud of her students indeed! 

“Please, just Fenris. And I am proud, though I cannot take all the credit.” Fenris admitted. “Anders was the one who suggested a new study method for her vocabulary lists.” 

“Look, the game's starting!” Sebastian hushed the group, and they settled back to watch the children play. 

The match was rather unexciting, as most children's sport matches are. It was more fun to support the children and cheer, which Merrill did often, pulling out little flags and waving them for each goal on either side. 

“I never had the opportunity to thank you for your support, Fenris, Mr. Anderson.” Merrill said during half-time as the children chowed down on orange slices and Victoria cuddled Bear and promised the mabari that she'd “Convince papa to let him come to their home, you'll see!” 

“Hmmm? Oh, you mean the textbooks. Not an issue.” Anders scoffed. “Some of the nonsense that gets published by the Chantry these days-” 

“Which textbook- oh. That one.” Sebastian said as he caught Fenris's glower. “You may not believe me, but even the Chantry has issues with that particular text.” 

“You must be joking.” Varric stated. “Nug sh- ship.” He smoothly transitioned to another word, noticing Nick's ever observant eyes and ears listening in on the conversation. 

“No! Not at all!” Sebastian protested. “There has been more introspection within the Chantry in the past decade. The newer wave of mothers believe that it is better to own up to past faults rather than wipe them away.” 

“And the anti-mage rhetoric?” Anders questioned. 

“I believe that all people are children of the Maker, and magic is merely another one of the Maker's gifts.” Sebastian said firmly. “It will take time for the more old-fashioned to mend their ways, but changes can happen.” 

“Some changes sooner than we all think!” Isabela chimed in, quickly changing the subject. “Now Merrill, those beads you're wearing are absolutely precious!” The children retook the field and began playing again. Nick was playing goalie, his normally sweet, shy gray eyes full of determination as he blocked the shots that came towards his goal. Victoria sped around in the grass like lightening, a red-haired bullet of energy. That is, she sped around until she bumped into a larger human boy from the opposite team and they both went tumbling to the ground. The referee blew a whistle and the children stood back up, brushing off their uniforms. 

“Is she alright?” Anders mumbled to Fenris. Fenris frowned. Victoria seemed physically fine, but her mouth was set in a grim little line and her eyes were blazing. 

“Oh no.” He said under his breath. He knew that look all too well. 

“Oh _shite_!” Isabela hissed. She knew what was up. 

“What? What's happening?” Anders asked. 

“Victoria, no. Do not do anything foolish.” Fenris called out. Whatever happened when she was knocked down, his daughter was now furious, and woe to anyone who attempted to stop her from exacting her sort of revenge. She started jogging down the field, then sprinting, clearly waiting for an opportunity to do something- there! The boy who knocked her down was dribbling the ball down the field, and Victoria sped up, dropped down, and slid across the slightly damp grass, kicking the ball out from under the boy's feet to “accidentally” hit his shins with her cleats. He fell to the ground and the referee immediately put Victoria in a time out for the match. She seemed satisfied, though, and Fenris shook his head. 

“At least she didn't punch anyone.” Sebastian said consolingly. “And she got the ball back to her team.” 

“You know she doesn't mean to hurt people, Fenris.” Isabela added. “She just gets mad and tries to get even. She probably didn't even realize it could have really hurt that boy.” Fenris shook his head. He knew his daughter very well. He saw her flatten her foot at the last critical second. It was nothing but deliberate. 

“Her temper always gets the best of her senses.” Fenris said, resolving to figure out exactly what happened after the game. 

“You mean that was on purpose?” Anders asked, his brown eyes wide. Fenris sighed. 

“It was worse when she was younger. We've been working on her sportsmanship. It's a work in progress.” Fenris acknowledged. Victoria rarely got upset, but her temper was explosive when she finally got angry. They would just have to work through this. Again. 

\- 

After the game Fenris took his daughter to the side, away from the other adults. Victoria seemed to know exactly why her father was having a private talk, and hung her head not in shame but in a grim sort of acceptance of her fate. 

“Victoria, what was that?” He asked sternly. Victoria grimaced, her eyes downcast but still fiery. 

“He deserved it!” Victoria shot back angrily. Fenris sighed. 

“You two collided into each other.” Fenris explained. “It happens. You cannot control others, but you can control yourself. You do not hurt others over a game.” 

“He called me names!” Victoria protested. 

“What names?” Fenris's asked, though he knew in his heart the proper parental response should have been that nothing justified Victoria's deliberate decision to hurt another child. But Victoria never did things without reason, he reminded himself. He just needed to know what her reasons were. 

“Bad ones.” Victoria insisted. 

“Tell me.” Fenris said, his voice quiet. The other adults gave them space, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Anders hold Nick back. Nick looked worried. 

“Papa, it's _bad_.” Victoria whispered. 

“I've heard everything, Victoria. Tell me.” Fenris said firmly. Victoria glanced around and leaned in, cupping her hands around her mouth and whispering into Fenris's ear. She mumbled the word, but Fenris heard it clearly. He stood straight and took Victoria's hand in his. 

“Come. We are settling this matter.” He said, walking over to the mother of the boy, who was fussing over her son's (admittedly impressive) bruised shin. She stood up and put her hands on her hips. 

“Has your daughter come to apologize?” She asked. Her accent was thickly Orlesian. 

“Only after your son apologizes for what he said to my daughter.” Fenris said cooly. 

“What did he say?” 

“He called me a knife-ear!” Victoria said angrily. A few parents close by gasped, some shuffled uncomfortably, and one Qunari father took his child aside to give a detailed lecture on why “knife-ear” was an inappropriate word to call elves, and to ask his dad for a better explanation when they got home. 

“Oh.” The mother turned her eye to her son, who avoided her gaze. “Oh, I see.” 

“You aren't denying it?” Fenris asked. The mother had not defended her son at all, which was quite the surprise to him. Though, Fenris noted, there was little to be denied. The boy already had the expression of the condemned. 

“No. I think I know exactly where he learned that word, and it is certainly not vocabulary we use at home.” The woman frowned. “Jack, apologize.” 

“But Grandfather-” The boy, Jack, protested, and his mother hushed him with a sharp tutting sound of her tongue. 

“Your Grandfather has been mean to many people, and he is not allowed around us until he apologizes and stops being mean. We do not act as your grandfather does.” She said sternly. “Now apologize.” 

“I'm sorry.” Jack mumbled to Victoria. “I shouldn't have called you that.” 

“I accept your apology.” Victoria said stiffly. “I'm sorry I kicked you with my cleats.” 

“It's... I understand.” Jack shrugged slightly. “It'll look cool later. It was a really good steal.” 

“Hmmm.” Victoria's frown twitched up in a little smirk that Fenris thought was a little too much like his own. “It was, wasn't it?” 

“Victoria!” Fenris hissed. 

“Sorry, papa.” Victoria said automatically. “And, um, if you want a better mean name to call me, just say 'Red' or 'Tomato,' okay? I can handle that.” 

“No name calling, Jack!” Jack's mother hissed. “Thank you for addressing this problem, Jack's father and I will discuss the matter when we get home.” 

“I will also have a conversation with Victoria. Thank you.” Fenris added, pulling Victoria back to their chairs and the group of rather concerned adults. 

“Is everything alright?” Anders asked, scanning over Victoria's sullen face and Fenris's scowl. “Anything I can help with?” 

“No. Victoria will just have to live without our customary ice cream trip this evening.” Fenris said, and lifted his eyebrows when Victoria began to protest. She frowned and returned to petting Bear. 

“That's rather lenient of you, Fenris.” Isabela remarked. 

“You do dole out the punishments, Broody.” Varric added. 

“It was... understandable.” Fenris said, but frowned when he caught Victoria's proud smile. “You could have broken his leg, Victoria. Do not smile about it.” 

“I could've fixed it! Or Mr. Nick's Dad could.” Victoria protested, and Nick, gentle, sweet, loyal Nick, nodded in agreement. Fenris sighed, because Victoria was right, and he truly felt that his daughter defended herself. But it wasn't right to reward bad behavior. What was he supposed to say? What was he to do? 

“It doesn't matter if I could have healed him or not, Victoria.” Anders said gently, kneeling down to meet her eyes. “Even if I could have, the action would still be there. You would have still hurt someone. That is what your papa is upset about. You understand?” 

“I didn't mean to, I was just really mad!” Victoria protested. 

“I know.” Anders said soothingly. “But you're sorry for what you've done?” 

“Yeah.” Victoria rubbed her forearm across her eyes in a rough motion, as if scrubbing away the tears in her eyes. 

“And you won't do it again?” Anders prompted. 

“I... I can't say I won't, 'cause that's lying.” Victoria admitted. “But I'll try really hard not to!” 

“And that's all your father and I, or any of us, would ask.” Anders said before drawing the girl in a quick hug. “You're a good girl, Victoria. And I know you're sorry.” Victoria sniffed and nodded her head. “Now, can you and Nick go take Bear for a quick walk around the field before we go?” Victoria nodded and the two children went off with Bear, Victoria wiping her eyes and Nick patting her back. Fenris caught a bit of their conversation before they were too far away to be heard. 

“He deserved it, calling you names. And your pass helped us win!” Nick consoled her. 

“Yeah, it did, didn't it?” Victoria replied with her customary bounce. 

“Fenris, we will be at that sandwich place for lunch. Meet us there?” Aveline said. “You and Nick can come as well, if you want, Anders.” 

“Thanks, Aveline.” Anders replied. 

“That's our cue to head out! See you at lunch!” Hawke waved lazily. “Also, Victoria's slide was badass!” 

“Who knew soccer was so violent?” Varric asked with a chuckle, folding up the picnic blanket. “See you in a bit, Broody, Blondie.” 

“Kitten, you can come with us.” Isabela told Merrill. “We'd be happy to have you.” 

“Really?” Merrill seemed excited by the prospect of lunch, or perhaps lunch with new friends. “I wouldn't be intruding?” 

“Of course not.” Isabela said, wrapping an arm around Merrill's shoulders. “Hurry up, Sebastian, you're driving.” 

“I'll save seats for the four of you.” Sebastian promised Fenris and Anders before following Isabela. And then it was just Anders and Fenris, standing with their packed away chairs and coolers, watching their children walk a three-legged mabari. This was where you say something, Fenris thought. Say thank you, or ask questions, or at least comment on the weather! What was it Aveline told Donnic when they had their first date? Nice night for an evening? Fenris only wished he could think of something to say! 

“Thank you.” He managed to croak out, his voice unsteady, uncertain. How did you thank someone for knowing just what to say when you were lost, for being the person you couldn't be when your child needed you? How did Fenris let Anders know how much it meant, that someone else could help Victoria understand what she did wrong without reverting to shrugs (like Isabela or Hawke) or Chantry dogma (like Sebastian)? It meant too much for words to convey, and Fenris was never good with words. He could only meet Anders's gaze and hope that he understood what he could not say. 

“You're welcome.” Anders said softly, clapping a hand on Fenris's shoulder, and it was enough. 

\- 

The thing about Fenris, Anders thought, was that he never seemed to realize his own appeal. He was so busy seeing all his flaws that he never stepped back to see just what he was. And what he was, Anders thought wistfully as Fenris let Nick and Victoria eat his fries, was rather remarkable. For all his blustering and gruff mannerisms, Fenris was a big softie under layers of black clothing, tattoos, and aggressive behavior. He was polite and honest and rather sweet, in his own way. 

And when he looked at Anders on the field with those big, desperate green eyes, it took all of his self control to not grab Fenris's cheeks and kiss him. 

Anders knew that Fenris could have handled it himself. Fenris was an excellent and loving father, and Victoria was easily one of the happiest children he had ever met. But when Fenris looked so unsure and alone, Anders couldn't help but jump in and help. And then when Fenris looked at him with that serious, grateful gleam in his eyes- 

“Dad? Are we going to go to the store later?” Nick asked after eating another ketchup laden fry. Next to him, Victoria picked the tomatoes off her sandwich and ate them. Anders noticed that Bear was sitting right between the children, eagerly waiting for a scrap to drop on the floor. 

“Oh, right, for flour and cupcake cups.” Anders responded. “Yes, Nick, we'll go to the store. I had forgotten.” 

“Baking again?” Fenris asked, one dark eyebrow raised in what Anders could only define as a judgmental eyebrow lift. Anders always knew that Fenris didn't like sweet things. Why else would he stare at sugar cookies like they had personally offended him? 

“Oh, just a few tests for that bake sale. I tend to bring them to the clinic and test the results. Nick likes to help.” Anders said lightly. “Started baking when I was in college, never looked back.” Ha, baking jokes! Anders only started making desserts because he wanted to make pot brownies, but he found it therapeutic and fun. Plus you got to eat the results. 

“Papa can't bake. He's getting better at cooking.” Victoria confided. “He makes a really good grilled cheese. With peppers.” 

“Oh, that sounds good!” Nick said. “Can we have that sometime?” 

“If you want.” Fenris replied. “Finish your food, both of you.” The children obeyed without question, and Anders's heart fluttered a little bit- in charge Fenris _did_ things to him. Fluttery, romantic sort of feelings that made Anders want to go on long walks along the coast, make a nice dinner, and wine and dine Fenris until he got him in bed. And then of course, they'd wake up the next morning and get the kids ready for school, and Pounce would try to eat breakfast and Fenris would remind Nick not to drown his pancakes in syrup while drinking coffee from that stupid mug while Anders braided Victoria's messy red hair- 

“Ah, well, when you're done we should be going, Nick. Lots to do.” Anders said hastily. No unrealistic pining, he reminded himself. Fenris is Victoria's father and a friend, you've worked too hard earning his friendship to ruin it now! 

Later, when Anders and Nick were at the grocery store and Nick was debating the merits of different colorful paper cupcake cups, Anders hesitantly broached a subject that had been sitting on his mind since... well, since he realized Fenris meant more to him than the man who happened to be Victoria's father, to tell the truth. 

“Nick, how do you feel about Victoria's father?” Anders asked. 

“I like Mr. Fenris a lot, dad. He's really nice! Did you know he knows Qunlat, Tevene, and Common? He's been teaching Victoria some phrases in Tevene, and offered to teach me. If you were okay with it, of course.” Nick was extremely enthusiastic. 

“No, I didn't know that.” Anders knew Fenris was smart, of course he did. And it wasn't a surprise that he was multi-lingual, but this sudden knowledge wasn't making it any easier for Anders. He wanted to to woo Fenris, and now he was feeling a little inadequate. Fenris accomplished so much, had been through so much, why would he waste time on a man who- 

“Do you like Mr. Fenris, dad?” Nick asked, and Anders picked up on the anxiety in his son's voice instantly. Nick wanted his father to like Fenris, Anders realized. He thought of Victoria and the natural, unconscious way she called Anders “Dad.” Nick liked Fenris and wanted Anders too like him too. 

“I like him very much.” Anders said quietly, a container of “fall themed” sprinkles in his hand. “Mr. Fenris is a good man.” 

“I know, right?” Nick beamed, relief etched on his face like the sun bursting through storm clouds. “I think he likes you, too. Victoria agrees with me!” 

“I hope so.” Anders said quietly. “I really hope so.” Nick smiled a smile that Anders thought was far wiser than his age. 

“It's okay to like him, dad.” Nick said softly, reaching up to cling to Anders's hand with one of his small ones. “It really is. I think... it'd make you really happy, dad. You should be happy.” When Nick said that, Anders heard both his son's higher voice and the husky, steady voice of Karl echoing in his ears. He squeezed Nick's hand and put the sprinkles in the cart. 

“You're right.” Anders said quietly. “It would make me happy.” 

“I thought so.” Nick said proudly. “It'll make Mr. Fenris happy too.” 

And somehow, Anders knew his son was absolutely correct.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read, commented, left kudos, and/or bookmarked this, or any, of my stories. I appreciate it very much! I should be wrapping this up in a chapter or three, and while I had planned to finish this up by the end of February, I'm afraid I have to draw it out a little longer! I would be more disappointed about missing my deadline, but I'm having too much fun writing to be too upset!


	6. Chapter 6

Fenris and Victoria were at the store to buy clothes. Fenris did not understand female fashions, or any fashion, truly. As a child he lived in hand-me-downs and donated clothes, under Danarius his clothing was chosen for him, and now when he danced he preferred Isabela's sensibilities. So he wore black on black, a simple combination that required little to no thought. But he could not force Victoria into all black or a school uniform, so he put in his best effort to sift through clothing to find things in Victoria's size and favored shapes and colors. So while he debated the merits of purple pants (Victoria's pick) over sensible jeans (his choice), Victoria had wandered off to other parts of the store. 

“Papa! Papa!” Victoria called, racing towards him so quickly that he braced for impact. She slammed into him and wrapped her arms around his waist, and Fenris placed his hands on her back. “Papa, I saw the most _amazing_ thing!” 

“What did you see?” Fenris asked patiently. 

“I'll show you! C'mon!” Victoria took his hand and tugged him along to the clearance section of the store. He was dragged past coolers, pool noodles, inflatable rafts, water toys, and more until Victoria finally halted in front of a small sky blue child's pool made of hard plastic. 

“See? It's on sale!” Victoria said, excitement coloring her voice and causing her to bounce on her toes. She pointed at the little yellow sign that proclaimed the pool to be two sovereigns and five silvers. 

“It is fall. Nearly winter.” Fenris said slowly. “It is too cold for you to have a swimming pool.” Never mind the fact that he had no idea where to put the damn thing. It was incredibly impractical. 

“It's not for _me_.” Victoria said with the exaggerated patience only an eight-year-old could possibly utilize. “It's for Bear! So he can play in the water when it's hot!” 

“Victoria, I have not decided if we will foster Bear or not.” Fenris said quietly. “I will not buy a pool. If you wish to, you may buy it, but I will not.” Victoria's face screwed up in a grimace before she tugged out a wallet from her tiny shoulder bag and carefully counting out a small pile of coins, occasionally glancing back up to check on the price of the pool. She seemed satisfied after carrying out this task three times in a row, firmly placing her coins into Fenris's hand one by one with a grim expression on her face. 

Fenris managed to tie the plastic pool to the roof of the car and drive back to the apartment without any crisis, Victoria grinning and chattering loudly in the backseat. 

“You.” Fenris told his daughter sternly as he struggled to keep from smiling himself. “You are entirely too proud of yourself.” 

“So this means we'll take Bear home with us?” Victoria asked eagerly. 

“Victoria, dogs are difficult to care for. They require food, medicine, and plenty of attention.” Fenris said firmly. “Can I trust you to be responsible, Victoria?” 

“Yes, papa! I promise to take care of Bear!” She said earnestly. 

“Do not make promises you cannot keep, Victoria.” Fenris replied sternly, and Victoria's green gaze locked with his in the rear view mirror's reflection. Her lips were pressed together in a straight thin line, her eyes fiery with determination. 

“Yes, papa. I promise to take care of Bear.” Her tiny voice was grave, and Fenris knew she understood exactly what she was saying and what that meant. 

“Then, if you believe you can do this, we will bring Bear home to foster him.” Fenris promised as Victoria shrieked in utter joy and resumed bouncing in the car, only held down by her seatbelt. 

Later, after Fenris sent Victoria upstairs to do her homework and Fenris found a place to store the pool (a large closet downstairs), he sent a message to Anders. 

“Victoria won. I hope you're happy.” He slowly typed out on his phone. 

“good girl, knew she could do it :) :) :)” Was the response only moments later. 

“I am surrounded by conspirators.” Fenris complained. 

“won't rest til we have 100 animals in ur home!!! ;D” Anders cheerfully texted back. 

“How Nicholas passes his spelling and grammar tests is a mystery for the ages.” Fenris snarked back, a smile curling his lips at the use of “we.” Anders was such a child sometimes, of course he would identify with Victoria and her struggle to have a pet. 

“shhh u like it ;P” Anders replied. Such a tease! Fenris enjoyed Anders's teasing. It was comfortable, the way Isabela or Hawke or even Varric teased him. But their teasing didn't leave a low burn in his gut the way Anders's words did. 

“Perhaps I do.” Fenris typed back, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering about wildly. His fingers trembled before he sent the message. There was a pause on the other end, accentuated by the flashing dots on the bottom of the screen. 

“what else do u like about me?” That was the message. Fenris took his time typing out a response, but he knew what he wanted, needed to say to Anders. 

“That you're passionate. You care about everything.” Fenris typed out and sent, and then added another text to accompany the first one, something a little more lighthearted than the first. “You also make me laugh.” 

“glad I amuse u, then ;p” Anders responded. Interesting that Anders chose not to remark on the other text, Fenris thought. The more important text, in Fenris's opinion. Could it be that he had misread all those signs? That he was wrong? No, Fenris was certain there was no mistake. Anders cared about Victoria, certainly, but Fenris was also certain that Anders cared about _him_ , and in ways that were more than a simple friend. He held his hand when he was upset. He listened. He cared. Fenris would just have to try again and get Anders to see just how serious he was. 

“It has been a long time since I have had a reason to laugh.” Fenris typed out and sent. 

There was a definite pause this time, and then Fenris's phone began to ring. He answered it. 

“You mean that, don't you?” Anders said breathlessly, his exhale sending a whoosh of static over the line, and Fenris knew he hadn't misread anything. 

“You called for that?” Fenris asked, his small smile widening into what could only be called a grin. “Only you would call to ask.” 

“You meant what you said.” Anders insisted. “You really meant it.” 

“I am not in the habit of wasting words on what I don't mean.” Fenris said with infinite patience. 

“Fenris, you're being evasive.” Anders complained. 

“And you are whining.” Fenris replied. Anders sighed again, and Fenris couldn't help but chuckle. It was a small noise, something that could have been mistaken for a cough, but Anders was not fooled. 

“What? Are you... are you laughing?” Anders asked in an accusing tone. 

“Hmmm. What do you think?” Fenris was still chuckling slightly, the sound much clearer. 

“I can't believe I'm missing this, you arse!” Anders complained. “I've been trying to get you to laugh for ages and now you do it where I can't see? Not fair!” 

“You will have other chances.” Fenris said in a faux-consoling tone. 

“Arse.” Anders declared without any heat behind the words. There was a friendly, relaxed silence between them that Anders eventually broke. “So you caved.” 

“Not quite. I only agreed to foster the dog.” Fenris said as he climbed up the stairs from the studio space to his apartment. Anders would say he had given in, Fenris thought wryly, and he would be absolutely right. 

“You're going to be a foster failure. I can tell.” Anders said. “You'll look into Bear's big brown eyes and won't be able to say no.” 

“Bear's eyes?” Fenris scoffed. “No, it will be Victoria and the dog and Nicholas and you all staring at me, telling me to 'Just give him a chance' and soon he will be sleeping on my bed and eating from my plate!” 

“Lucky dog.” Anders muttered, and Fenris chuckled. 

“Should I complain about your lucky cat?” He teased, and relished the sharp inhale on the other line. At the same time, he regretted not being there to see Anders's face. He wondered how deep Anders's blush was at this moment. He waited outside his apartment door, worried that if he went inside Victoria would interrupt (or overhear) the conversation. Then she would ask questions, questions that Fenris found difficult to explain to himself, let alone his daughter. 

“You, um, that is... Fenris, are you flirting with me?” Anders asked, his voice almost timid. When Anders was shy like this, Fenris saw the relationship between Anders and Nicholas. 

“Yes.” Fenris replied. 

“Oh.” Anders said. “Oh. Um. Flirting. How serious is this flirting?” 

“Serious enough.” Fenris said. “Because you have Nicholas, and I have Victoria. Neither one of us is suited for... for...” 

“For a one night stand.” Anders finished. “We're parents, they come first.” 

“Yes.” Fenris knew Anders understood. He always understood. “Though I do not know where that leaves us.” He admitted softly. They were attracted to each other. Fenris was interested in pursuing more, and Anders seemed interested as well. But how would they move forward with all this information? 

“I need some time to... to process this.” Anders confessed. 

“Are my advances unwelcome?” Fenris questioned. 

“Maker, no! It's just... unexpected.” Anders said. “I didn't think you even liked me! You always reject my cooking and glare at me all the time. You didn't even try the cupcake I offered you at the bake sale, and I know it tasted fine!” 

“The glaring cannot be helped.” Fenris said. He had not meant to insult Anders by rejecting his baked treats, but it was so much sugar and sweetness. After a life of depravation, Fenris found it hard to indulge in anything. Eating edible, healthy food on a regular basis was hard enough for him, but he pushed through the challenges in order to give Victoria what she needed. The sweets were just too much. He could try though, for Anders, if it would make him happy. 

“Isabela says I always look angry. And the desserts are... I do not normally eat sweet things.” 

“I see.” Anders replied softly. “Is there, well, anything you do like?” 

“If you were to bring an apple tart, that would be much appreciated.” Fenris said reluctantly. 

“Ohhhh, so you're just picky!” Anders teased. “But if that's what you want, well, I'll see what I can do.” 

“What an honor.” Fenris said back sarcastically. “Should Victoria and I come by tomorrow to pick up Bear?” 

“No, no, Nick and I will bring him over tomorrow. We have supplies for him too, so don't get anything more until I'm there to tell you what you need.” Anders insisted. 

“Thank you.” Fenris said 

“You're welcome, Fenris.” Anders replied. “And, um, I'll see you tomorrow.” 

“I'll see you then, Anders.” Fenris said hesitantly. 

“Bye, gorgeous.” Anders murmured, his voice suddenly lower, more intimate. It sent a thrill up Fenris's spine until he reminded himself that he was not gorgeous and this was just Anders being Anders. 

“You are teasing me.” Fenris frowned. Must Anders make a joke of everything? 

“Only a bit. See you tomorrow, Fenris.” Anders murmured before hanging up. Fenris sighed and opened the door, Victoria running up to him and pestering him with questions. 

-

Anders took a deep breath and tightened his grip on the leash in his hand. Bear sat patiently outside the door to the dance studio, even as his stubby tail wagged at light speed. Nick smiled up at Anders. He held onto a large canvas tote bag filled with all the items Bear needed for his stay. 

“Come on, dad. Let's go in!” He said in a quiet, encouraging way. Anders smiled back at his son. He was the adult here, and it was just a door! And behind that door was just a little girl and her father. Her very interesting, very attractive, and very desirable father. And this very interesting man was interested in him! It was mind-boggling. He took another deep breath and pushed the door in. 

“Papa, they're here!” Victoria nearly screeched with delight, racing down the hall to greet them. “Hi Nick! Hi Mr. Nick's Dad!” She hurried over and immediately kneeled down to cuddle Bear and chat with Nick. 

“We've been waiting for you all morning! Papa says you and he need to talk, Mr. Nick's Dad, but can Nick and I go upstairs with Bear and show him where he'll sleep? Please, please, please?!” Victoria asked as she pet Bear's head and scratched behind his ears. Anders nodded briefly. 

“If it's fine with your papa, it's fine with me.” Anders said, handing the leash to Victoria. She took it eagerly and tugged it a bit. Bear followed obediently. “It's fine. Don't blow anything up, we'll be downstairs.” Fenris said calmly, appearing quietly as he always did. It still startled Anders, and his eyes flew up to meet Fenris's and he was lost in green. Footsteps pounded down the hallway and up the stairs, and suddenly they were alone. 

“Uh, hi.” Anders said, his voice dry. Fenris's hair was tied back from his face, and it only highlighted how different and wonderful Fenris looked. His pale tattoos were striking and flowing and just- wow. Just wow. 

“Hello, Anders.” Fenris said slowly, with a deep sort of rumble that Anders wanted to feel in his very bones. Fenris's voice was an addiction. Anders wished he could convince Fenris to speak more often, to speak more freely. His voice was as lovely as his looks. 

“You... wanted to talk?” Anders asked in a voice that was more of a squeak than the voice of an adult man. Wonderful job, Anders. Great work on being attractive. 

“Yes.” Fenris replied. “My studio. Isabela's in the office. And hanging on every word, no doubt.” The last part of the statement was spoken louder and addressed to the closed door. A muffled 'Drat!' came from inside. 

“Of course.” Anders hastily followed Fenris into the studio. Fenris shut the door behind them. 

It was warm and sunny, just like that day when Anders first saw Fenris dance. He also noted that Fenris was dressed in his customary leggings and shirt, all black as usual. Anders was a bit surprised how small Fenris appeared when he wasn't moving or speaking. He always seemed so much larger, so much more imposing, but now he was... he looked like he could be completely enfolded in Anders's arms. 

“Have you thought about what I said yesterday?” Fenris asked. Always straight to the point, wasn't he? Anders appreciated Fenris's brusque and abrupt manner, both excessively formal and terribly harsh all at once. You always knew where you stood with Fenris. There were no secrets with him. At least, he acknowledged when he wanted to keep things to himself. But he was always honest and loyal and... and... 

“I have.” Anders replied, edging a little closer to Fenris to test the waters. Fenris did not move away. “There's something here, isn't there? Between us.” 

“And you are interested in exploring it.” Fenris stated. “So am I.” 

“You're really frank.” Anders murmured. 

“I do not waste words.” Fenris said firmly. 

“I've always liked that about you.” Anders confessed. “You always know what to say.” Fenris snorted. 

“I rarely know what to say. I just know not to clutter the air with inane prattle.” Fenris admitted quietly. His eyes were soft, fragile, and open. Anders couldn't help but stare and be drawn in. 

“Grump.” Anders teased, leaning down and forwards. He wanted to tease, to draw out a smile and a laugh because he did not have a chance to see Fenris laugh before. And Anders wanted to see, to see it so badly. But he leaned forward and Fenris leaned up, pressing his mouth against Anders's. 

Fenris was warm, and smelled a bit like salt and sunshine, leather and something spicy and clean. Anders placed one hand on Fenris's hip, then another, and Fenris's hand crawled up between their chests to clutch at the edge of Anders's favorite pair of scrubs. Out of all the kisses Anders ever had in his life, this was not the most proficient. The angle was a bit awkward, his greater height causing him some neck strain. Fenris was pressing forward and up too hard, their teeth clattering together. Fenris was tense and uncomfortable and so clearly nervous that Anders began to rub his back to try and help him relax. It was not a perfect kiss. 

But it made Anders's heart soar regardless. 

“So....” Anders drawled out once they parted for breath. “So.” 

“Mmmm.” Fenris mumbled. His eyes were still closed, and a smile curled on his lips. Anders wanted to kiss that smile, nuzzle his face and get Fenris to chuckle, to laugh. 

“You like me.” Anders said quietly. He was grinning now. Fenris liked him. Fenris liked _him_ , and Anders hadn't been liked since.... since Karl, really. And even though Fenris was different from Karl, was less diplomatic and did not have the same easy temperament, Anders liked him all the same. 

“Mmm. Perhaps I do.” Fenris opened his eyes slowly, the green darker, almost lazy and sleepy and sweet, and Anders wanted to kiss him again. He held back only because they needed to talk. 

“We should... spend time together.” Anders continued hoarsely. “Get to know each other.” 

“You wish to take me on a date.” Fenris was smirking now, eyes narrowed in a mock-glare. 

“We could go out.” Anders offered quickly. 

“I... I would prefer not to.” Fenris said hesitantly, and Anders remembered Fenris's quiet nature, how he lingered in the background, how he tried not to intrude or draw attention to himself. Going out in public would only make him uncomfortable. 

“We'll stay in.” Anders suggested, taking Fenris's hand and rubbing his thumb along the tattooed knuckles. Fenris's ears blazed crimson, a reaction that Anders was determined to study further. How far would Fenris's blushes go up? How far did they extend down? 

“I would like that.” Fenris murmured, tightly gripping Anders's hand in his own. “Come to the studio.” 

“I can teach you how to cook.” Anders suggested. “Romantic dinner, a little candlelight...” 

“And I can teach you how to dance.” Fenris offered. 

“Dinner, dancing, and engaging conversation.” Anders leaned down again and gave Fenris a quick peck on the lips. “Sounds like a lovely evening.” 

“Mmmm. Friday evening? Just us?” Fenris suggested, his smile soft and shy. Anders never thought Fenris could be sweet, would be sweet, but he was so very wrong. 

“I'll get Hawke to babysit.” Anders promised. “Just for the evening, not overnight.” 

“I'll see you when I pick Victoria up from soccer practice this Tuesday.” Fenris replied quietly. “I look forward to our date.” 

-

Anders pulled out an old, worn, and much loved canvas jacket from his youth. The fabric was once a vibrant turquoise-green that had faded with time and wear. He stitched together the ragged parts and sewed patches of his favorite bands and anti-Chantry memorabilia all over the back. It was his favorite jacket when he was in college, Anders thought as he fondly traced his fingers around the griffin patch on his shoulder. Karl always called it his rebel jacket. 

_”Makes you look dangerous. All you need is a motorcycle, and you could take on the world.”_ Karl would tease as he combed through Anders's hair. Anders sighed and pulled the jacket off. The jacket was a comfort object, and he needed a little bit of a confidence boost before tonight. A date. A date with Fenris. 

“Dad, you better wear that new jacket! No scrubs!” Nick called out from his room. Anders chuckled and hung the canvas jacket up in his closet before pulling out his other jacket. It was a simple black jacket tailored to his body. He looked rather suave in it. While Anders wasn't nearly as vain as he was in his youth, he felt the jacket suited him. He looked good. Attractive. Certainly handsome enough to hold Fenris's attentions, right? Anders hoped so. He shook his head and tugged on a pair of slim fitting jeans, quickly taking off the jacket to slip on a plain dress shirt over his undershirt. 

“Dad? If you don't dress up for your date with Mr. Fenris I'll let Pounce walk all over your scrubs! And I'll dip his paws in paint!” Nick threatened, poking his head around the door. “Oh. Hi, dad.” 

“Nicholas, you wouldn't!” Anders teased, and Nick's faced flushed. Anders gestured for Nick to come in, and Nick opened the door and hopped on the bed. Ser Pounce-a-Lot jumped up and circled a spot near the headboard several times before settling down like a bread loaf and slowly kneading the comforter with his paws. 

“So, how do I look?” Anders joked, stretching his arms out and presenting himself for inspection. “Dashing?” 

“You look very nice, dad.” Nick said with a smile, his blond curls tousled and wild on his head, gray eyes bright and clear. “I think Mr. Fenris will like it.” 

“Nick.” Anders sat on the bed next to his son. “Is it... are you okay with this? Me going on a date, that is. Because if you don't approve-” 

“Dad.” Nick said firmly, interrupting his father. “You deserve to be happy. I think... I think that Karl would've liked Mr. Fenris.” 

Anders laughed a bit, choking up at the mention of Karl. “He would have liked him very much. Just like he would have liked you.” 

“Sometimes I like to imagine Karl was my other dad. That mom wasn't... that she was never there. That she isn't part of who I am.” Nick admitted to his father. Anders wrapped an arm around his son and pulled him close, taking a deep breath to try and calm the sudden waves of emotion, both sorrow and rage, when he heard Nick's sad tone. Nick smelled of children's shampoo and fresh cut grass. 

“He would have loved to be your other father. You're a lot like him, Nick.” Anders murmured. 

“Does it make me a bad person? To want that?” Nick asked anxiously, pulling away to search Anders's face for answers. Anders shook his head firmly. 

“No. Not at all.” Anders soothed his son, reaching a hand out to smooth the unruly curls down. “And you can always talk to me, or your counselor, or anyone you trust about these feelings.” 

“Even Mr. Fenris?” 

“Yes. Even Mr. Fenris.” They were both quiet after that, Anders combing through Nick's hair with his fingers, Nick sitting pensively next to his father. 

“Ms. Leiliana and I talked about Mr. Fenris last week at our meeting.” Nick admitted. “I really like him, dad. But you shouldn't date him if that's the only reason you'd date him.” Nick said firmly. Prompted by Anders's gaping, open-mouthed expression, Nick continued to speak. “Ms. Leiliana explained it to me. There's lots of things to think about before you date someone, and I want you to be really happy. So you're going on a date with Mr. Fenris for the right reasons, right dad?” 

“I promise, Nick. There are a lot of things I like about Mr. Fenris.” How did one explain attraction and romance to a child? How did you even attempt to explain love when you weren't sure about it yourself? Anders would just do the best he could. It got him this far in life, hadn't it? 

“I think Mr. Fenris is kind and thoughtful, and he's interesting to talk to.” Anders began. “We're going on a date to figure out if we want to spend more time together and if we can get along.” 

“Are there other reasons?” Nick questioned, gray eyes curious. Anders nodded. 

“Yes, and some of them are how Mr. Fenris treats you.” Anders smiled at his son. “I would never date someone who didn't like you, Nick. Just like he would never date someone who didn't like Victoria. You're both very important to both of us.” 

“Victoria and I figured as much. Mr. Fenris really likes you, dad.” Nick stated calmly. 

“How do you know that?” Anders asked. 

“Because sometimes when you're not looking at him he looks at you.” Nick said, as if he were divulging a great secret. “Sort of like how Bear looks at us when he wants a treat. So I had to make sure that you're dating him for the right reasons. Hawke said you used to be a heart breaker before you married Karl.” 

“A heart breaker? Me?” Anders acted scandalized, which made Nick giggle and shake his head. 

“No, dad, you'd never do that!” Nick said once he stopped laughing. “Hawke can be silly sometimes.” 

“Yes. Very silly.” Anders said, and secretly promised to have a nice long chat with Hawke and their blabbing, gossiping mouth. 

-

Fenris tossed another shirt on the ever growing pile of shirts and almost groaned in despair. He rarely thought of his wardrobe choices. He taught dance classes. Spandex, leggings, and exercise clothes were just part of the uniform. Black was a color that went with everything and made laundry day simple. But now he was going on a date, a date with a rather attractive man with many desirable qualities, and Fenris had nothing to wear. How was he to make a good impression if he looked as if he did not care? 

Fenris cared. 

He cared immensely. 

“Papa!” Victoria whined from her perch on his bed. Bear, who lay in the middle of the queen sized bed, exhaled a long sigh of exaggerated patience. “Papa, can I please go play with Bear?” 

“In a minute, Victoria.” Fenris held out two shirts, one plain black dress shirt and another black dress shirt with thin dark gray pinstripes. “Which one?” 

Victoria stuck out her tongue and wrinkled her nose. “Neither. Both are boring!” She declared. She sounded like her mother, Fenris thought. Varania also gave him shit for his pragmatism. Clothing was more than just getting dressed, Varania would argue. What was the point if you didn't like what you wore? 

“What would you suggest?” Fenris asked, struggling to remain calm. They had been at this for far too long, performing a task that Fenris hated. He hated dressing up, hated it even when he worked for Danarius. It made him feel like a doll. It was hard to differentiate between being dressed for others and dressing for himself, but dressing in practical clothing helped. Danarius preferred him in ostentatious fabrics and cuts, things that were luxurious and highlighted his so-called _exotic_ appearance. Fenris hated it, hated the pampering and strangeness of clothes with no use value. Wearing practical clothing reminded him of his freedom. 

“You should wear colors, papa!” Victoria said, as if it were obvious. She immediately perked up in her seat and bounced off the bed. “Aunt Isabela helped me buy something for you! She said it was supposed to be for your birthday, but I think she'd be okay with me giving it to you now!” Not waiting for a response, Victoria raced out of the room. Fenris glanced over to Bear, who wagged his stubby tail and huffed loudly before resting his giant head on his one front paw. 

“Yes, Bear.” Fenris addressed the dog. “She is always like this.” The dog huffed again and shut his eyes. Fenris rolled his own. If only he could take a nap and not worry about the few hours between now and his date. A date with Anders. The apartment was clean, the fridge stocked with food. Candles had been purchased, and Victoria herself set up the table so it looked like something “from the movies!” She had also been so enthusiastic about her father's sudden love life that she talked about little else at her meeting with her counselor. Luckily, Dr. Trevelyen only wished him a pleasant evening and encouraged him to talk to Victoria about the importance of dating and taking the time to know your partner. 

“I've got it!” Victoria shouted as she bounded back into her father's bedroom. “Look! See? Color!” She waved a green article of clothing in the air in front of his face, and Fenris grabbed it. It was a sweater. The tightly woven strands were soft, and it was dyed a deep green, the color of the rainforests of Seheron, where Fenris once danced. It was a place he had loved dearly, though he had only stayed a month. Fenris liked the feel of the sweater in his hands, enjoyed the color of the fabric and the way if sometimes shifted in the light. It was lovely. 

“I wanted more colors, but Aunt Isabela said you should have something simple first.” Victoria explained. “Do you like it?” 

“It's... I like it very much, Victoria.” Fenris said. “Thank you.” 

“Try it on! Try it on!” Victoria cheered, racing back to the bed to pounce on it and sit up like a little judge. Fenris sighed and stripped off one of his baggy black exercise shirts in favor of a tighter fitting black undershirt. He slipped the sweater over it, marveling at its soft texture and fine weave. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and caught his breath. 

Victoria (with Isabela's help) had excellent taste. The sweater's v-neck was comfortable, but emphasized his neck and shoulders. The fabric clung tightly without feeling uncomfortable. And the color brought out his eyes. He looked... he looked very nice, Fenris acknowledged. Almost beautiful. If Anders were to call him attractive, Fenris thought, he would believe it tonight. 

“You look very handsome, papa!” Victoria gushed. “Mr. Anders will love it!” 

“You think so?” Fenris asked, amused by his daughter's enthusiasm. Yes, he thought, when he looked like this it felt like everything would go just right. 

“Mmmhmmm. Then you'll have dinner and do whatever people do on dates.” Victoria said firmly. “What is it that people do on dates anyways?” 

“Talk, mostly.” Fenris replied. “Get to know each other.” 

“Kissing too.” Victoria stuck out her tongue and grimaced. “Which is gross, but I guess married people do that so you have to start sometime, papa.” 

Fenris blinked, as if adjusting his eyes could adjust his hearing. “Excuse me?” 

“Kissing, papa.” Victoria said again, slower this time. “Married couples kiss all the time. So if you and Mr. Anders want to get married, you'll have to kiss each other _sometimes_. Not too much, but sometimes.” 

“Where in Thedas did you learn that?” Fenris managed to ask, already planning to dangle Isabela and Hawke off a cliff by their toes until they apologized for corrupting his daughter. 

“TV.” Victoria said cheerfully. “And people who date get married, papa, it's just what happens! Then you'll have a husband and I'll have a brother and we won't be lonely!” 

“Victoria...” Fenris crossed the room and sat down next to his daughter amid the piles of clothing and sleeping mabari. “Victoria, have you been lonely?” 

“Oh, only sometimes.” Victoria said, as upbeat as ever. “But that's okay. I've got friends and now I've got Bear. But it'd be nice to be a big family, wouldn't it papa?” Fenris debated telling his daughter that such things were rarely so simple, that dating did not always lead to marriage, that life was not like one of her storybooks or television shows, but he did not want to crush her fragile hopes. And, he realized, he did not wish to crush his own barely there dreams. He always wanted a family, ever since he realized he could have one and had the means to keep them safe. 

“It would be nice.” Fenris admitted, wrapping an arm around Victoria to give her a hug. 

“Told you.” Victoria said smugly, and Fenris laughed, his anxiety over tonight's date with Anders melting away in the face of his daughter's optimism.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read, left kudos, bookmarked, and/or commented on this story (or any of my stories). I really appreciate them all! Feel free to ask questions if you have any, I'll try to answer to the best of my abilities.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris and Anders dance in more ways than one.

Nick and Victoria were in the hallway of the dance studio, talking to each other so quickly that it was nearly impossible to decipher what they were saying to each other. Anders stood nearby, pulling off his heavy overcoat. The chill of winter settled in fast in Kirkwall, and it was cold enough that Anders had to bring out the winter gear. While Nick had gotten dressed in warmer shoes before they arrived at Fenris's studio and home (“No, Nick, you may not wear flip flops. And yes, Nick, you must wear socks.”), Anders had taken one final, critical look at himself in the hallway mirror. 

The black jacket looked good, and the white dress shirt was inoffensive. His dark jeans fit perfectly, and the black ankle boots were sturdy and comfortable. He wrapped a white scarf patterned with feathers around his neck and almost felt ready, but his neck still felt bare. Lighter, somehow. Anders had taken off his wedding ring. Karl's wedding ring, the ring he wore around his neck for ten years. It was resting in his bedside drawer, next to his and Karl's wedding pictures. He had mourned, Anders thought, and he treasured his time with Karl. But it was okay to move on. It was okay to be happy again, and if he was happy with Fenris... Anders had smiled at himself in the mirror. Karl would be happy too. 

Anders returned back to the studio, where Victoria was busy shrugging on her puffy pink jacket and aqua colored knitted hat and mittens as she talked. 

“Papa's letting Bear know that I'll be back later and to not be sad. I told Bear to watch my stuffed animals for me, so he'll be too busy to be sad.” Victoria explained to Anders. “Nick told me to try it.” 

“Mabari are very smart. They like having jobs to do.” Nick said. “But Bear can't come to the gardens with us. Which is stu- silly.” Nick quickly amended when Anders gave him a warning look. 

The Wounded Coast Botanical Gardens held a special fall festival every year around this time. While Anders usually took Nick to it, this time Hawke volunteered to take the children and let the adults have some alone time. Hawke would no doubt stuff both children full of sweets and treats and try to win them as many prizes as they could, but Anders knew it was the price one must pay if they wanted Hawke to play babysitter. Hawke was more like a child than an adult when it came to babysitting. Anders was simply relieved that Hawke decided on a sensible outing to take the children on. He still wasn't quite over Hawke's babysitting outing to the zoo, where Hawke and an impressively horned qunari got into a heated debate over dragons. 

“You two ready for an adventure?” Hawke asked loudly. Victoria bounced up and down excitedly, while Nick solemnly nodded his head. Victoria looked thrilled at the prospect of an evening with Hawke, but Nick looked like he was about to go into battle. Anders crossed his arms and gave Hawke his most parental stare. 

“Hawke.” Anders said sternly, the dragon incident still fresh in his mind. “Do not do anything reckless. Or dangerous.” 

“Don't worry, Varric's meeting us. He's plenty adult enough.” Hawke said, laughing brightly. Anders wondered if he should have asked someone else to babysit. Aveline, perhaps, or Fenris's friend Sebastian. But the children loved Hawke, as wild and childlike as Hawke could be. Perhaps that was why the children loved Hawke so much. They were all speaking at the same level, though Nick was often the most mature of them all. 

“Somehow I do not find that reassurring in the slightest.” Fenris called out from the hall. In a few moments he emerged, and seeing him was like taking a punch to the gut. Anders was left breathless and gasping for air as Fenris approached. It was a sweater. A green sweater. A perfectly innocent, respectable piece of clothing, something that was completely appropriate for a father to wear. But on Fenris it became something unbelievably sexy. The fabric clung to him, showcased his body, emphasized every little lanky, muscled, gorgeous bit. The color brought out his eyes, already vibrant and luminous. Anders never loved a piece of clothing so much in his life. 

“Hawke, if they come back with tales of you running through fountains or climbing up walls, you will not babysit for a month.” Fenris continued to say, his voice rumbling low in his chest. 

“Those are great ideas!” Hawke joked, but a sharp look from Fenris silenced them. “Fine, fine, we'll all behave and come back in the morning.” 

“Hawke, you're supposed to bring them back here at ten!” Anders protested, Hawke's boisterous teasing cutting through his daze. Gorgeous, gorgeous Fenris who just looked so perfect as he stood in the doorway with his dark green sweater and dark jeans and slightly alarmed look. 

“Yeah, yeah. We're gonna go have fun, you two go and enjoy yourselves.” Hawke said with an exaggerated wink. Victoria waved at Fenris. 

“Bye, papa! Have fun on your date!” Victoria said. 

“Have fun, dad!” Nick added, and the two stepped out into the night, escorted by Hawke. Then they were alone, standing in the entrance and waiting for someone to say anything in the silence. 

“I have food upstairs. It is unprepared.” Fenris said quietly. Anders saw that he was shifting back and forth, as if to stop moving would invite disaster. Just like Victoria, Anders thought with a smile. Father and daughter were not so different after all. Anders reached out and took one of Fenris's hands in his own. 

“I'd love to cook with you.” Anders said firmly. “Show me what you have, and we'll get started.” 

That was how Anders ended up in Fenris's kitchen, standing behind Fenris with his arms wrapped around him, guiding him through the motions of cutting a tomato just right. Anders knew Fenris was probably more than capable of cutting vegetables without injury, but he enjoyed the excuse to hold Fenris close, and Fenris did not complain. He was already boiling water for pasta on the stove, and pan-fried two chicken breasts with a few spices and some lemon juice. Anders even brought over an apple tart that was currently baking in the oven. And then there was Fenris. He looked adorably sweet and flustered in his sweater and bare feet, concentrating on cutting up the tomatoes and the small pile of basil leaves. Anders sighed and rested his chin on the top of Fenris's head. 

“This is nice, isn't it?” Anders asked to no one in particular. “Being domestic.” 

“I am hardly wife material.” Fenris snorted, setting the knife down and resting his hands on top of Anders's. “I will not be waiting for you to come home from the office with house slippers in one hand and a drink in the other.” 

“You could just admit you're enjoying this too, instead of getting all defensive.” Anders said petulantly, even as he dropped a light kiss at the nape of Fenris's neck and relished in the feeling of Fenris shivering in his arms. “And who says you're the one who'd be waiting at home?” 

“I... I had not considered otherwise.” Fenris said softly, standing completely still. Anders tightened his arms slightly and leaned down to whisper in Fenris's ear. 

“I know that I look damn good in an apron. Swear it, on Andraste's dimpled arse.” He said, grinning brightly as Fenris's ears twitched and turned pink. He knew he shouldn't take such delight in being naughty, but Anders liked it when Fenris flushed and squirmed. 

“No housewife curses like you do.” Fenris muttered, twisting around in Anders's arms to give him a long, searching look. “It is... you are unusual.” 

“Of course.” Anders murmured. Fenris's mouth was soft, his eyes large and sad and horribly confused. “But I enjoy it.” 

“We should... we should eat.” Fenris whispered against Anders's lips before pulling away. Anders sighed and followed Fenris's lead. Later, he thought to himself, willing his over-excited libido to calm the fuck down. He'd try again later, when Fenris was less confused and upset. He didn't know what he said to set this off in Fenris, and hoped that it wouldn't ruin their evening together. Anders didn't want to destroy this fragile peace by letting a clumsy word slip from his mouth. 

Dinner was quiet and pleasant, and Anders puffed up with pride as Fenris eagerly ate everything set in front of him. He noticed that Fenris always picked at his food, as if it was a chore to eat and to eat well. Seeing him eat with such gusto was a reward all by itself, but when Fenris praised his cooking Anders couldn't help but flush and promise to share a few more recipes with Fenris. 

“The tart needs to cool for a bit before we can eat it.” Anders said after the meal was finished. “Perhaps we can have that dance lesson? I can break out my spicy shimmy, it was very popular when I was in college.” Anders wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and laughed at Fenris's scoff. He felt better now that Fenris was rolling his eyes and smiling his half smile. It was better than that sad look in his eyes. 

“Follow me.” Fenris said, standing up from his seat and walking around the table to tug Anders up with him. Fenris's hand was firm, insistent as he led Anders downstairs and into the dance studio. A golden harvest moon shone brightly in the space, lighting the room with a soft glow. Fenris did not turn on the lights, but instead turned around and let go of Anders's hand. 

“Stand up straight. Not stiff.” Fenris said quietly before circling him. Anders stood straight and still, but tried to relax as Fenris pressed his hand against the small of Anders's back. His other hand reached around and grasped his hipbone as Fenris slowly adjusted Anders's posture. 

“It is rather intimate.” Fenris said softly. “Keep your knees slightly bent.” Anders obeyed, and Fenris stepped back once he was done. The moon's light softened his sharper features, and his eyes were... Maker, his eyes were stunning. Fenris was beautiful like this, staring at him with that analytic gaze. 

“Your posture is good.” Fenris remarked, then walked forward and nudged Anders's feet slightly apart with his own bare foot. “Breathe.” He ordered, and Anders took a deep breath in and out. 

“Nervous. Sorry.” Anders squeaked out. 

“Don't apologize.” Fenris said as he placed a hand on Anders's hip, then snaked it around until it rested right at the base of his spine. The warmth of his hand bled through his shirt. “Place your left hand on my shoulder.” Anders hesitantly placed his hand on Fenris's shoulder, and Fenris gripped their free hands together and brought them up. 

“This is, ummm, close.” Anders joked, staring down into Fenris's face. “So what am I supposed to be doing?” 

“Follow my lead.” Fenris said calmly, pushing with his hands and urging Anders to step back. 

“I'm going to step on your feet.” Anders fretted as Fenris pushed and tugged and Anders resisted every bit. Wouldn't that be perfect? Anders would stomp on Fenris's bare foot and crush it under his booted, clumsy heel. Then the date would be over and Anders would be lucky if he could ever get another date with Fenris ever again. He stumbled, and it was a testament to Fenris's physical strength and skill as a dancer that Anders did not drag them both down to the floor. 

“You are letting your fear prevent yourself from relaxing.” Fenris replied. “You will not step on my feet. You will be just fine, and you will learn how to dance.” Fenris was smiling, soft and gentle and open. “I want to dance with you, Anders. Let me teach you.” 

“You've done this with plenty of other people. Dancers. Why me?” Anders asked quietly, once again taking up the proper position with his arms and feet. Fenris guided Anders back, to the side, slowly pushing and pulling back and forth, guiding him along patches of moonlight on the floor. 

“Because you are you, and it is my choice who I dance with.” Fenris finally said. “I had few choices in Tevinter. My manager controlled everything in my life.” Fenris's expression was troubled, his eyes distant, his face hardened by memories. “He controlled me, and made me want it.” 

“Your manager?” Anders prompted, pulling Fenris back into the present, into the dance studio and moonlight. 

“Danarius.” Fenris whispered the name, his voice tight with anger. “I thought I loved him, once. I did not know what love was.” 

“And now?” Anders asked, letting Fenris turn him out and back into his arm before they resumed their dancing across the floor. 

“Now I think I understand a little more.” Fenris said. “And I want to learn. Relax your arms.” Anders complied, letting Fenris pull him forward. 

“I'm learning too.” Anders confessed as they spun around again. He felt light on his feet as Fenris's hands led him to the places he was supposed to be. “I didn't care after Karl died, and then when Nick was born... I thought I'd be alone. But it was okay. Nick and I were by ourselves but it was fine. But then there was you, and Victoria, and it's... the world is...” 

“It's bigger than you thought it was.” Fenris finished the phrase in his low voice. Anders nodded and sighed deeply. It felt like gliding, he thought as Fenris guided them across the floor. It felt miraculous, somehow, both their bodies and their minds sharing an experience, an understanding that was beyond the reach of others. 

“Exactly.” Anders replied. “Now I don't want to be alone again.” 

“I never thought I would find anyone.” Fenris confessed in the quiet moment that stretched on and on after Anders's statement. “I did not want anyone to touch me, after... after Danarius. He hurt me when I was weak. I did not want anyone to see me when I'm weak. Never again. But now...” Fenris trailed off. Anders stared down at Fenris, who was looking back up at him with those big green eyes. It was only then that Anders realized that they had stopped dancing. 

“Now?” Anders asked, his mouth dry. 

“I would not mind letting you see me when I'm weak.” Fenris said softly, reaching up to cup Anders's face with his hands. Anders could not find the words to say. There was nothing _to_ say. He bent down and kissed Fenris instead, tugging him close and holding him tightly. Fenris's fingers wove into his hair, tugging the strands as Fenris clutched him close. 

“This is- is more than I anticipated.” Fenris managed to breath out between kisses. Anders hummed in agreement and proceeded to pepper Fenris's throat with kisses. They both slowly knelt to the floor, Fenris tugging at Anders's shirt and undoing each button with a muffled curse in between kisses and desperate touches. And Anders wanted to touch, oh Maker did he want to touch Fenris and discover what lay underneath the clothing and layers of standoffish behavior, but now was not the right time. Fenris wasn't ready- _he_ wasn't ready. Anders hadn't been involved seriously with someone since Karl, and Fenris... Fenris had been practically owned, essentially a slave! He wasn't ready for this, and Anders, as terribly dense and clumsy as he could be, knew enough to know when to hold back. 

“We don't need to do this right now, Fenris.” Anders said gently, rubbing soothing circles into Fenris's back. “We can take our time.” 

“No.” Fenris insisted. “It's- I can manage this, I want-” He groaned in frustration and let his hands fall from Anders's now wrinkled dress shirt. “I want.” He said simply. “But I don't know how without becoming what I once was. I don't want to own or be owned.” 

“We can stay here, just like this.” Anders suggested as he lay out on the wooden floor and stretched himself out. “Stay here. We don't have to do anything. No one will control you, certainly not me.” He tugged Fenris to him, let him stretch out alongside his body, warm and pliant and panting slightly. 

“I don't-” Fenris sighed, a small huff of breath. “This is not what I envisioned.” 

“I'm not going to ravage you the first chance I get, Fenris.” Anders said with a smile. “Though I'd certainly like to, sometime. When you're ready.” 

“I do not understand you. I was perfectly willing. I wanted to. We could have fucked. We still could.” Fenris said. Anders twisted his head to face Fenris. There was a puzzled little crease between Fenris's brows and a sad, bitter little frown at his mouth. Anders wanted to kiss them both away. 

“I'm a little too old for sex on a wooden floor. Bad for the back.” Anders teased gently, smiling at Fenris's skeptical raised eyebrow. “Some things are worth the wait.” 

“Hmmm.” Fenris seemed to accept this, and Anders tugged and prodded until Fenris's head was resting on his chest and he was completely snuggled up against him. While the wooden floor leeched away the warmth from Anders's body, Fenris's own body heat kept Anders quite comfortable. Long, elegant, tattooed fingers carefully traced patterns up and down Anders's chest, combing through his springy chest hair. The silence was comfortable as they shared lazy, sweet kisses and reminded themselves that this was good, they could stay here and it was _good_. 

“Of course, it will be fantastic when we have it.” Anders eventually remarked as he stroked Fenris's hair. The texture was strange, slightly silken and slightly rough at the same time, and all too fun to play with. 

“What?” Fenris mumbled from where he was busy lavishing kisses on Anders's collarbones. 

“Sex. We'll rock Kirkwall to its foundations when we have it.” Anders said smugly. “And we will have it, make no mistake about that.” Fenris groaned and buried his face in Anders's shoulder. 

“You. You are impossible.” He muttered, and Anders couldn't help but laugh. 

“We better get dressed, the kids will be back soon.” Anders said, carefully sitting up. Fenris kneeled next to him, adjusting his sweater and combing through his white hair. 

“Hawke is always late, you know that.” Fenris remarked. “We have time.” There was a gleam in his eyes that suggested just what Fenris thought they should do with that extra time, a look that made Anders feel at least ten years younger, but Anders had to (regretfully) resist the temptation. He wondered when he became the responsible one between them both. 

“So our sitter is irresponsible.” Anders said in mock-disapproval. “What will happen to our children?” 

“Our children.” Fenris breathed out, the strangest look crossing his face. Anders didn't know what to make of it. Before he could learn more, Anders heard the sound of footsteps trampling up the steps to the studio. They scrambled up and Anders quickly buttoned up his shirt as the front door opened and Hawke shouted into the building. 

“We're back!” Hawke yelled. “And we all behaved! So you better have your clothes on!” 

“Why are their clothes off, Hawke?” Victoria asked. “Are papa and Mr. Anders taking a bath?” 

Fenris rolled his eyes at Anders, and they shared one final quiet moment before opening the studio door to deal with Hawke and great the children. _Their_ children. 

-

Fenris dropped by Anders's home after his afternoon advanced ballet class. The children were at a two hour soccer practice before their final game on Saturday, so Anders invited him over for a private cooking lesson. Fenris was eager to learn. He could not remember the last time he ate as well as when Anders helped him cook. He was picky about his food, but Anders's food was so delicious that he couldn't help but eat everything. Fenris was very receptive to Anders teaching him how to cook like that. 

Fenris was excited about many things that Anders wanted to do. They would have time, he reminded himself as he knocked on the door once again. Anders wanted to take his time, and this was what convinced Fenris that Anders was serious about this. Serious about all of this. Anders wanted to build a foundation, create something that lasted. Something that was strong. He wanted Fenris to be comfortable. Then there was the commentary, small things that Anders said. That he looked good in an apron, that laying out on his back for long periods of time was uncomfortable. All of it suggested to Fenris that Anders was not only eager to sleep with him, but that Anders wanted Fenris to take charge. 

No one had ever let Fenris take charge in sexual encounters. Before Danarius, there were trysts, quick one-offs that lasted but a night. And being an elf in Tevinter, a mundane male elf in Tevinter, meant being obedient. With Danarius there was no questioning his control. He took orders and let Danarius do as he pleased because that was what he had to do to keep Danarius happy. After Danarius, Fenris never wanted to touch or be touched again. He felt filthy and wrong, every bit of his body used and wretched and disgusting. It had taken ages to see himself as a normal person again, but even that realization did not encourage his libido to action. Nothing had, until he met Anders, really met and understood and felt something for Anders. And ever since their date, Fenris could think of little else than Anders's hands on his body, his hands on Anders's body, and he shivered at every brush of contact, at every shared glance and private smile. 

And then there were the children. _Their_ children. How Anders managed to stumble across Fenris's deepest desire so effortlessly that it had to be an accident was a mystery to be unraveled at another time. But unravel it he would, even if it took Fenris an age to do it. 

Fenris frowned. Anders was not answering the door, but he knew that Anders was in. Not only was his car in the driveway, but Anders had promised that he would be in. Although he felt slightly bad about it, Fenris checked on the front door, which swung wide open. Anders had said to come right in, in his grammatically atrocious text-speak. Fenris stepped inside and closed door, locking it out of habit. He heard the faint sound of clattering in the kitchen and Anders singing in an upbeat, off key voice. Fenris approached the sound. 

Anders was dancing. Dancing and setting out dishes and cooking utensils, to be absolutely precise. He was wearing ragged sweatpants and an old, old dark blue t-shirt. The faded, worn letters proclaimed “Sex Instructor: First Lesson Free!” And he was _dancing_ around the kitchen, singing to some song on his headphones, shaking his hips and wiggling around the room as he pulled out bowls and a cutting board and measuring cups. The orange cat, Ser Pounce-a-Lot, was somehow napping through the noisy spectacle, his orange tail twitching occasionally as he snoozed on the kitchen island. Fenris paid little mind to the cat, his eyes feasting on the surprising (and surprisingly erotic) sight before him. 

Anders finally turned around and opened his honey gold eyes. He jumped like a frightened rabbit, letting out a surprised, somewhat terrified squeaking yelp as he yanked out his headphones and let them dangle around his neck. Fenris was a little too distracted by the hair that had fallen out of Anders's stubby ponytail and now clung to his neck in red-gold strands touched with a bit of gray. 

“Fenris! I didn't- I didn't hear you come in!” Anders squeaked. The faint sound of drumbeats played through the earbuds. 

“The door was open.” Fenris replied. His voice sounded far away as he watched a bead of sweat drip down the length of Anders's neck. 

“Oh. I, uh, forgot about that.” Anders murmured. Golden eyes met green and suddenly Fenris was there in a flurry of hurried kisses and groping hands, tugging Anders to him. He could not remember crossing the length of the kitchen, his mind was so intent on being there in Anders's arms and remembering just how good it felt when they were together. Their bodies fit together as well as Fenris remembered from that night in the studio. Better, even, as Anders's nervousness did not surface this time. Fenris reached around Anders's waist and lower, squeezing the curve of his ass and growling in satisfaction at the deep moan he drew out of Anders. He lifted Anders up and deposited him on a counter before stepping between Anders's legs and reaching back up to kiss him again. He normally never acted like this, a more rational, detached, analytical part of his mind commented as Fenris contemplated taking off Anders's ragged sweatpants to suck his cock, but Fenris ignored it in favor of reaching underneath Anders's shirt to drag his palms against Anders's chest. 

“Shouldn't- Maker- shouldn't you ahhh, Fenris! Shouldn't you be up h-here?” Anders managed to say between moans and sharp intakes of breath. Fenris reached down to tug Anders's shirt over his head, but Anders stopped him, grabbing his wrist to prevent him from tearing the shirt off. 

“No, not here.” Anders said firmly. “Upstairs.” Fenris rolled his eyes and picked Anders up. Anders, to his credit, only gave a muffled cry of surprise before he wrapped his legs around Fenris's waist and clung to him. Fenris hurried up the stairs, somehow still moving even as Anders nipped and marked Fenris's neck with kisses. Fenris deposited Anders on the bed, but did not move to join him. Instead, his hands hovered over his own shirt. He should take it off. It was only fair. He had tried to do the same with Anders, several times now to be exact. It was only fair that he offer the same courtesy and take off his own shirt. But then Anders would see. The tattoos were masterfully done, but they could not hide all the scarring. Nothing could. But he had to show himself to Anders at some point. Fenris gritted his teeth and reached down, only to be stopped (once again) by Anders's hand. 

“Let me?” Anders asked softly, so gently that Fenris could not refuse him. 

What surprised Fenris was Anders's gentleness. Perhaps he should not have been surprised, Fenris thought as Anders slowly lifted his shirt to press kisses along the tight muscles of his stomach, the sharp jut of his hip bones. Anders was a healer, using his magic on animals and, occasionally, on people. His touch would have to be gentle. Perhaps he was surprised because that gentle touch was being used on him. 

“Lovely.” Anders murmured. “Hands up?” Fenris complied, and Anders pulled the shirt up and over his head, and Fenris shivered in the cold air. Anders gazed at him, gazed at his body as if it were desirable, a thing of wonder and beauty. Fenris reached out and tugged at the hem of Anders's shirt. Anders let him pull the worn garment off and then Anders sat at the edge of his bed, gleaming gold in the sunshine. He held out his hand, and Fenris took it. 

“I...” Fenris started to say, but he stopped. What was there to say? So when Anders pulled him into bed, Fenris went willingly, sinking into softness and warmth and Anders's arms, Anders's body, Anders, Anders, _Anders_. 

“It's alright, love.” Anders crooned, combing through Fenris's hair as Fenris trembled and tried to control his urges. He wanted to rut and kiss and bite and touch everything, but he needed to step back, needed to stop and think. “It's alright.” Anders moved then, letting his hands slide down to Fenris's leggings and tugging them down slowly, taking time to stroke and lavish attention on every inch of skin he revealed. Anders was treating him like a treasure, like something precious, and that was strange. Anders was strange. 

Fenris adored that strangeness. 

“Let me take care of you.” Anders murmured. “Maker, you're gorgeous, Fenris.” 

“I am scarred and odd, Anders.” Fenris replied, his voice tight. “You are the gorgeous one.” 

“We'll have to work on your confidence.” Anders remarked flippantly. “Or your eyesight. I've seen plenty of bodies, Fenris, and you're one of the most stunning I've ever had the pleasure to be with.” 

“Hmph.” Fenris grunted as Anders began to move lower with his hands and his mouth, fingers questing underneath the band of his small clothes. “Anders, I-” He did not speak further, the words ending in a strangled shout as Anders removed the small clothes and began to lick and suck his cock, hot breath playing along the sensitive organ. Fenris's hips arched, his fingers scrabbling along the thick cotton fabric of the quilt they lay on, and he could barely breath, could barely _think_ when Anders curled his tongue like that and swallowed, the pressure already pleasant and wonderful and warm. But more than that was the care that Anders put into every motion. He wanted Fenris to feel good, and his desires only fueled Fenris's need. He pushed Anders away, and Anders came up with a grin on his face, his hair mussed and eyes alight with mischief and glee. 

“Not... not fair.” Fenris managed to gasp out. “What about you?” 

“I'll be fine, sweetheart.” Anders said softly. “I want you to feel good.” 

“I do.” Fenris said with a small smile. “But I would feel better if we shared this.” 

“I would be happy to share this with you.” Anders said with a smile, and he let Fenris pull him up and to him, shared in sweet kisses as Fenris tugged down the sweatpants and laughed at Anders's lack of small clothes. And Anders let Fenris take both of their cocks in hand and give them both pleasure together, sharing in warmth and closeness and friction and need. 

And when Fenris faltered and released before Anders, he was not mocked or even ashamed of his lack of stamina. Anders simply held him through it and peppered his face and mouth with kisses. Fenris reached his hand down to join Anders's, and he stroked Anders's cock until he shuddered into orgasm. Afterwards they dozed, and Fenris marveled at the comfort that closeness brought. Eventually, Anders dragged Fenris into the shower, where they continued to kiss and touch, taking their time to enjoy the feelings of closeness and physical comfort. After they dried, Anders insisted they change the sheets and set them in the wash. 

“Nick sometimes sleeps here when he has a nightmare.” Anders said apologetically, but Fenris understood all too well, and did not complain. They dressed partially, Anders in his sweatpants and Fenris in his shirt and small clothes, and they both cuddled on the sheets. 

“I said it'd shake Kirkwall.” Anders said smugly. Fenris sighed and gave Anders a gentle slap along his shoulder before snuggling into the crook of Anders's neck. 

“Behave.” Fenris said sternly, and Anders laughed brightly. 

“I'll count on you to make me behave.” Anders teased before wrapping his arm around Fenris's waist and tugging him ever closer. Fenris shut his eyes and smiled. In an hour they would pick the children up from soccer, and then they would eat dinner here at Anders's home. With a happy sigh, Fenris allowed himself to rest. 

-

“Papa, papa!” Victoria shrieked as she and Nick ran up and down the park, jumping into leaf piles and racing around in the grass. “Papa, did you see? I climbed up the tree!” 

“I saw.” Fenris said calmly. The weather was beautiful, and Anders had decided to take the children to the park to work off their extra energy. Fenris joined them after his individual class with Orana. Anders was crouched next to Bear, checking on the stub that was his long-gone fourth leg. Fenris braced himself for impact as not one but two bodies slammed into him and wrapped their arms around his waist. 

“Hi, Mr. Fenris!” Nick said breathlessly, gray eyes sparkling. Victoria's grin matched Nick's, or perhaps it was more accurate to say Nick's smile had grown to be as broad and excited as Victoria's. Fenris smiled back, affection rising in his heart as he hugged them both. 

“Hello. What have you two been up to?” He asked, and Victoria giggled while Nick rolled his eyes. 

“We were trying to play soccer with dad.” Nick confessed. 

“He's not very good at it.” Victoria confided. 

“You traitors! I heard that!” Anders called out with a grin. The children turned and ran over to Anders and the dog, and Fenris slowly followed. Victoria turned as she ran, red hair flying as she ran. 

“C'mon, papa! Hurry up!” She yelled, and Fenris took up a slight jog to join them. To join his daughter, to join Nick, to join Anders. Not quite family, but close and growing closer every day. A family of his own, after all these years. Fenris looked up into the sky, into the trees with red orange leaves and the bright blue sky and sunlight, and felt completely at peace. The world, his world, was bigger and brighter for having Anders and Nicholas in it. He had his family at long last, and it was good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading/bookmarking/commenting and or leaving kudos on this story (and any of my stories)! I truly appreciate it!
> 
> Next up: The Epilogue!


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We close one book only to open another.

The sound of shuffling feet and faint metallic clangs in the kitchen greeted Anders with the faint gray light of morning. He stretched his arms and legs, luxuriating in the feeling of soft cotton on his mostly bare skin. Next to him, Fenris sleepily rolled over and flung an arm over Anders's waist, pulling him in like an overly cuddly octopus. Anders sighed and twisted around so he was facing Fenris, burying his face into the crook of Fenris's neck. 

“Our children are up.” Anders said, his voice husky from sleep. Fenris chuckled and ran his fingers through Anders's tangled hair. 

“Our children,” Fenris repeated in his rich voice that was like melted dark chocolate brought into sound. “ _Our_ children are making a mess in the kitchen.” 

Anders snorted, his breath stirring Fenris's pale hair. “They're probably trying to cook breakfast.” 

“Should we get up?” Fenris asked after a particularly loud crash and several hushed giggles. 

“No, Nick can handle it. He'll rein Victoria in.” Anders mumbled, once again pulling Fenris close to him. “Morning kisses?” Anders smiled up hopefully in anticipation of kisses, and Fenris's expression was exasperated and sweet all at once. Anders loved that he could bring that expression to Fenris's face. He tilted his head back to receive his expected morning kisses, and Fenris gave in at once, sprinkling kisses like raindrops of Anders's eyelids, the bridge of his nose, his chin, his lips. Anders returned them as well while letting his fingertips slip past the waistband of Fenris's sleep pants. Anders supposed it was a good thing they were dressed if the kids were going to barge into their room with breakfast. And while Anders liked his “Cat Mom” sleep shirt, he was far more comfortable with far less clothes. 

“We really should go downstairs.” Fenris reluctantly said after there were more crashes, more banging and giggles. He hoisted himself up in the bed, the sheets and heavy quilt tumbling off his shoulders and back to pool around his waist. When he sat like this, with the sunlight pouring in and turning his skin gold with lines of silver, Fenris looked stunning. Anders shook his head, torn between going downstairs to make sure Victoria and Nick didn't hurt themselves and lingering to stare and admire Fenris and his otherworldly appearance. He chose the latter. 

“They want to surprise us, I bet.” Anders murmured, reaching a hand up and stroking Fenris's cheek. “Come back to bed, love.” Fenris rolled his eyes, but let Anders pull him down so they could curl up in the bed. Anders pulled the covers up and over them both and wrapped Fenris back up in his arms. Fenris was always warm, and Anders snuggled up closer to enjoy the feeling of Fenris resting in his arms, fully relaxed and happy. 

Ser Pounce and Bear left the room sometime between the time Fenris and Anders fell asleep and woke up this morning, and Fenris took advantage of the extra bed-space by stretching his legs before curling up around Anders. Anders enjoyed the way Fenris's body stretched, pressing directly against his own from their chests to the tips of their toes. He felt every little muscle twitch against his own, and nothing felt more intimate than these quiet shared moments between them. 

“Should we pretend to be asleep?” Fenris asked as the smell of toast wafted through the air. They could hear Nick and Victoria speaking to each other, their faint voices carrying up the stairs. 

“Victoria, watch the bread! It'll burn!” Nick hissed. 

“Doesn't it pop out?” Victoria asked. 

“No, that's a push toaster, not a toaster oven!” 

“Okay!” There was a pause. “Papa likes coffee, but dad likes tea.” 

“If you fix the tea I'll get the coffee maker started.” Nick offered, and Anders grinned against Fenris's neck. 

“Aren't they sweet?” Anders mumbled before yawning loudly. “I say let them have their surprise.” He also enjoyed snuggling underneath the covers with Fenris, and was at loathe to move just yet. Just a few more minutes, and then they could move. 

“We could surprise them.” Fenris suggested, a smirk on his lips. Anders chuckled and pressed a kiss to the bridge of Fenris's nose before tugging the blankets to cover most of their heads. 

“So this is where Victoria gets it from!” He whispered to Fenris, who managed to look both dignified and horribly mischievous all at once. “You're a complete troublemaker!” 

“We will not surprise them if you keep talking.” Fenris warned, and Anders fell silent. There was more clanging, the ding of the toaster, the drip drip drip of the coffee machine and the rich smell of fresh coffee and the slightly floral scent of Anders's preferred tea wafting through the air. The fridge door opened and closed several times, and all was silent. Then there was the pitter-patter of little feet climbing up the stairs. 

“Here they come.” Anders whispered unnecessarily as the footsteps came down the hall and approached their door. The door creaked slowly open, and Anders heard a definite click of something on his bedside table. 

“Shh!” That was Victoria, standing at his side of the bed. There was another clatter of ceramic on wood, and Anders locked eyes with Fenris, who silently counted down to one. With a great heave, Anders and Fenris simultaneously flung the covers off and pulled a squealing and squirming Nick and Victoria into bed. 

“Tickle fight!” Anders declared, fingers wriggling across Victoria's belly and under her arms. She shrieked with laughter and kicked her legs 

“Dad! Papa, dad's tickling me!” She yelled over Nick's giggles and her own laughter. 

“That is what happens to girls and boys who wake their parents up in the morning.” Fenris said solemnly. “Tickle fights.” 

“But papa, we brought breakfast.” Nick protested, and Fenris stopped the war and ruffled Nick's curly hair. Anders rolled his eyes and let Victoria up. Victoria handed Anders his tea. 

“See? It's your fancy tea. I even put honey in it!” She said proudly as he took a sip from the mug with little cartoon nugs on it. Nick gave Fenris his coffee in his mug, the cat mug Anders picked up in the airport gift shop so long ago (and yes, when Anders finally gifted Fenris the mug, he had snorted and muttered “Well it is practical if nothing else.”). 

“Thank you, Victoria.” Anders said as he sipped the tea. Victoria put too much honey and did not let the leaves steep long enough, but Anders loved it anyways. 

“And we have toast with marmalade! And we got apple butter for papa 'cause that's his favorite.” Victoria added. 

“And we put everything away, dad. I promise.” Nick said with a smile. Pounce and Bear entered the bedroom, Bear entering with his usual exuberance while Ser Pounce walked in sedately. Bear clambered onto the bed and settled firmly in the middle of all the people. Pounce slinked about before choosing his own spot near the headboard, where he sat and began to groom himself. 

“This is wonderful, and we're really thankful.” Anders told the children, who both beamed up at him with twin grins. 

“But a breakfast in bed is best shared with the entire family.” Fenris said, finishing Anders's train of thought. Anders's thumb unconsciously ran over the ring he now wore, a thin silver band the twin to Fenris's own. Different than his first, but still just as good. It still meant the same things, no matter the metal it was crafted from. As Victoria and Nick fell on the breakfast and began to divide toast and jam among the four of them, Anders sat back against the headboard to watch the entire scene. 

“This is my family.” Anders thought with wonder as he looked over the messy, overcrowded bed. “A family to protect and love, with a husband and children and dog and cat, and more aunts and uncles than we know what to do with.” Anders, who had always drifted and felt alone, a single father with his son, had a giant family of his own, and he would never be lonely again. When Fenris took a piece of toast slathered in apple butter and offered it up to him, Anders smiled and took it as he joined in on a lazy morning with the family he never expected to have. 

-

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who has stuck along for this journey. This was an utter joy to write, and while I am sad to finish this particular story, I want to direct you all to the chapter summary. Just because this story is done does not mean the universe is complete shut down. Expect more PTA!Fenders in the future!
> 
> Once again, thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read, left kudos and/or comments, and bookmarked my work. I'm glad to share my writing with everyone, and all of you inspire and encourage me to keep writing and become a better writer! Thank you all!


End file.
